


As Much As I Ever Could

by hollycomb



Category: Terminator Salvation (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:15:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollycomb/pseuds/hollycomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus survives, moves into the base and continues to be obsessed with protecting Kyle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Much As I Ever Could

Marcus drags Connor to the helicopter, ready to get rid of him so that he can run back into Skynet and find Kyle. Connor's people can fucking leave without him if they're not willing to wait. The last thing he's expecting as he delivers Connor into the arms of his wife is Kyle's face peeking up over her shoulder. He's staring at Marcus with those giant eyes, and for a moment Marcus is sure that they are the only blue thing left in this ruined world. Marcus' eyes are blue, too, but not like that, not like Kyle's.

"Marcus!" Kyle says, and only then does Marcus believe what he's seeing, that Kyle is already here, already safe. Star is beside him, and Marcus lets out his breath for what feels like the first time since he watched that bastard machine take them. He climbs into the helicopter as it's taking off, and while Star only smiles at Marcus faintly, Kyle actually grabs him, then holds him by the shoulders as if he doesn't know what to do with him. He gapes at Marcus, his mouth hanging open.

"Should have known you'd be able to take care of yourself," Marcus says, not sure if Kyle can hear him over the noise of the helicopter. Then Skynet is, like, exploding. Marcus glances back at it briefly, then at Connor, who might be dying despite Marcus' efforts, then he looks again at Kyle, who is still staring at him.

"You're okay," Kyle says, so weakly that Marcus can't really hear him, he just reads his lips. He smirks.

"Mostly," he says, holding up his left hand, which has been melted down to the metal that he's made of now. Kyle's eyes somehow even get even wider, and then he frowns a little, touching the metal fingertips curiously. Marcus can feel Kyle's touch with his metal hand, which he didn't expect. Kyle lets go and leans back a bit, his frown deepening.

"Why do you – what happened to your hand?" Kyle asks. They're far enough now from the crumbling wreck of Skynet that Marcus can hear him speak. He sighs and sits against the wall of the helicopter. Kyle stays on his knees, watching Marcus with a suspicious look that makes him feel like shit.

"I learned some things about myself back there," Marcus says.

"You – you lost your hand?" Kyle slides over to Marcus and sits beside him, cautious but close. There's some exclamation of relief from the group of people who are surrounding Connor – maybe he's going to make it after all. Marcus doesn't expect to be thanked. Anyway, he doesn't need to be. Connor saved Marcus, too, and maybe he had some hand in helping Kyle and Star onto the helicopter, which means a hell of a lot more to Marcus than whatever Connor did to bring him back from the dead.

"Yeah, I lost my hand," Marcus says. "And pretty much everything else, too. It's kind of a long story."

"But." Kyle is frowning at Marcus' hand in a way that makes him want to hide it inside his sleeve. "That looks like – like one of the machines."

"I know. Look, I'll tell you all about it when we get wherever we're going, okay?"

Kyle nods, his expression softening. He smiles a little and tucks his arms into his lap. Marcus would have died back there if it meant saving Kyle. He's not sure why. Maybe just because Kyle saved him, once. But Connor did, too, and Marcus is nowhere near willing to die for that son of a bitch. Connor might have given him a chance, he might even grudgingly respect Marcus now, but Marcus is not big on forgiveness and he's still more than a little pissed off that Connor almost got Blair killed when she and Marcus tried to escape. He wonders if Blair will be there at the base when they arrive, if that's where they're headed.

"We did it," Kyle says. He pushes his shoulder against Marcus' and grins. "We got away, and we blew up their headquarters."

"Great," Marcus says. He doesn't care about anything but Kyle and Star's safety and the thought of seeing Blair again. "Does that mean we win?"

Kyle scoffs and rolls his eyes. "No," he says. "But it's a start. Do you think John Connor will be okay?" He cranes his neck to take a look at Connor, who is wincing as he reclines in his wife's arms. She's kissing his forehead and smiling down at him, her eyes wet with tears.

"Sure," Marcus says, though he has no idea. "For now. You know, you're pretty impressive, surviving this shit for as long as you have."

Kyle shrugs. He's staring at Marcus' hand again, his mouth thin with worry.

"Let me see that," he says, putting his own hand out, as if he's asking Marcus to pass him a pack of cards. Marcus wants to refuse, but then, for some reason, he doesn't. He puts his hand in Kyle's, and it's amazing, this shit they're remade him out of, because he can feel the softness of Kyle's skin, as if he's got a complex metal nervous system.

"Marcus," Kyle says, his voice shaking. "You – you're not—" He curls and straightens Marcus' metal fingers and strokes his cold, hard palm like he's performing some kind of scientific test. Frowning as if his findings are inconclusive, he looks up into Marcus' eyes, searching for something there. He seems to find it, and smiles sweetly.

"For a second I thought maybe you were a machine," he says, breathless and quiet, as if this is their secret. "But. I know you're not. You – you're too good."

Marcus grunts. Blair accused him of the same thing. She called him good just because he protected her. He wasn't like this before, in the real world, in the past. He didn't hurt people, not intentionally, but he didn't keep them safe, either. He let the chips fall where they may. Ever since he met Kyle, he can't imagine living that way anymore. Maybe it's just the goddamn apocalypse. It makes everything seem so fragile, especially Kyle, who is looking at Marcus like he still trusts him with his life, metal hand or not.

"I'm not a machine," Marcus says. He'll explain the complexities later, but for now, he knows this much is true. He's still got his fucking brain, even if it does turn into some diabolical database when he's plugged into the mother computer. He's still got his heart. As far as he knows, they haven't made any modifications there. It's a strange thing to leave behind, the heart. It's like they left it there because they wanted one weakness to remain, something that can still be hurt.

*

Kyle falls asleep against Marcus' shoulder during the flight back to the base, and Marcus rouses him when they arrive. Kyle blinks at him with confusion. Marcus can't believe how young and soft he still looks, despite everything he's been through.

"Are we here?" Kyle asks, his voice scratchy with sleep. Marcus helps him stand; he wonders about the last time Kyle had anything to eat, or even any water.

"I think so," Marcus says. They step out of the helicopter together, and Star scrambles out behind them, jogging forward to take the hand that Kyle offers her. Connor is on a stretcher up ahead, being carried into the base. The base looks different during the day, when Marcus is not being shot at as he runs away from it. He thinks again of Blair, and wonders what she'll be expecting from him. She wasn't what Marcus expected, wasn't hardened or closed up the way he'd thought women in this world might be. She curled up against him so easily.

Inside the base, Connor is given a hero's welcome. Marcus gets a lot of looks, but Connor's wife explains to everyone that he helped. Annoyed, Marcus just wants a quiet place to sit alone for awhile and think about everything that's happened. He wonders if Kyle wants the same thing. Maybe they could play cards, get some sleep, clean up a little. Before he can ask Connor's wife if this would be possible, Blair comes shoving through the crowd of onlookers, beaming at him. She hesitates for a moment, then throws her arms around his shoulders.

"Hey," she says, her voice tight with emotion as she clings to him. He gives her a squeeze and settles his hands on her hips to push her back a little, so he can breathe. Not that he has lungs anymore. Ha.

"Thanks," Marcus says, because he doesn't know where else to start. She laughs.

"Yeah, okay," she says. "Back 'atcha. Thanks for surviving."

"Woulda been kind of hard not to. Considering." He holds up his metal hand and she touches it tenderly. Marcus glances over at Kyle, who is staring at he and Blair, looking dazed.

"Hey, can we get some water for the kids?" Marcus says, stepping out of Blair's arms. "And something to eat? They've been locked up in Skynet's headquarters, so."

"Of course," Blair says, turning to a short, stocky man who is standing behind her. "Benny, how about some oatmeal and water? Maybe some jerky?" She turns back to Marcus and smiles at him. "Do you – need food?" she asks, tilting her head curiously.

"Guess not," Marcus says. He's not sure why this depresses him. It should be a relief. The guy Blair barked her orders to – Benny – stares at Marcus hatefully before disappearing into the crowd.

"I'm still not too popular around here," Marcus says, hoping that Blair will take a hint and show him a place where he can be alone. She shrugs.

"They'll learn to love you," she says. Marcus doubts that's true. He looks back to Kyle, but he's gone. Panic strikes through him – God, what if he's going crazy? What if he only hallucinated Kyle in the helicopter, what if he's still back at Skynet? But Skynet is gone, blown to bits. He kneels down to Star and takes her shoulders.

"Where's Kyle?" he asks. She turns and points toward a narrow hallway that leads back into the base. Marcus nods and pats Star's head before walking in the direction she indicated.

"Hey," Blair shouts, and he turns back. She grins. "Where the hell are you going?"

"This kid, he needs to eat something," Marcus says, and he heads down the hallway without further explanation.

*

After ten minutes of frantic searching, Marcus finds Kyle sitting on the floor near what appears to be a laundry room. He looks as if he's close to passing out, his chin tucked to his chest, and Marcus yanks him up with a growl. He expects Kyle's head to flop back lifelessly, but he's alert and awake, his dirty cheeks streaked with tear tracks.

"What the hell are you doing?" Marcus asks. "Come and have some food, you –"

"I'm not hungry," Kyle says, wrenching himself out of Marcus' grip. "Now are you going to tell me about your hand?"

Marcus scoffs and looks down at the metal hand as if he needs to consult in order to remember the story. It's all becoming a bit fuzzy already, the things he learned when he was plugged into the Skynet hive mind.

"Don't you want to eat first?" Marcus asks. He's terrified that Kyle will hate him for being a machine. Ever since he got here it's been pretty clear to him that if he loses Kyle Reese, he won't have anything. Star is just a kid. Blair is confused, looking for a love story to color the bleak landscape of her small world. Kyle is something else. A real ally.

"I said I wasn't hungry." Kyle wipes at his face and sniffles a little. Marcus has no idea why he might be crying – profound relief? "Now tell me."

"Come in here," Marcus says with a sigh, dragging Kyle into the laundry room by his elbow. The room is small and humid, everything reeking of industrial grade soap. Kyle stares at Marcus, waiting for an explanation. Marcus would really love to sleep, though he supposes he doesn't need that anymore, either. He wonders if he'll even be able to do it by choice.

"Remember when we met and I didn't know what was going on?" Marcus says. "I didn't know what the machines were, or Skynet, or any of that?"

"Yeah," Kyle says. His voice is soft and curious, his eyes red-rimmed from exhaustion, or maybe from crying. "I thought you were an idiot," he says, smiling sheepishly.

"Well, maybe I was, but I'd also just woken up, sort of. Back in 2003, before the bombs fell, before Judgment Day, I donated my body to science. Never mind why." He'll tell Kyle that part of the story later. Maybe. He doesn't really want Kyle, the only person who's ever looked at Marcus like he doesn't expect him to eventually fuck everything up, to know what he was like, once.

"They, they made a machine out of me," Marcus says. He holds up his hand, and Kyle actually flinches. "But I'm not – it's still me. Mostly. I mean, I've got my own brain. And my own heart. The rest is, like. Just a metal skeleton. That's all."

Kyle shakes his head, frowning. "But why?" he asks. "Who – Skynet did this to you?"

"Well. Sort of. And they wanted me, they wanted me to help them kill Connor. Without knowing what I was doing – they wanted me to lead him back to their headquarters. Don't look at me like that – it doesn't make any fucking sense to me, either. But they failed, Connor's okay, you're okay, and I'm here, I'm a free agent now."

Kyle stares at Marcus for a long time, as if he's working out a math problem. Then he sighs tremendously and picks up Marcus' hand to reexamine it, again touching every metal fingertip.

"Who was that girl?" he asks, muttering.

"Huh?"

"That lady who hugged you."

"Oh – Blair? Yeah, I met her when I was looking for you."

Kyle lifts his head, and there's something sharp and needy in his eyes that makes Marcus uncomfortable. He takes his hand back.

"You were looking for me?" Kyle says.

"Yeah, of course I was. What'd you expect? That's why I was there in Skynet, that's how they got me where they wanted me. They took you."

It's still kind of hard to say. They took you. Five seconds of chaos, Marcus' fumbling attempts to stop the machines, and then Kyle was just gone. Marcus hadn't expected to react the way he did, to want nothing but to regain Kyle at any price, no matter how long it took or where he had to go do it. Being locked up in Connor's base was the worst experience of his life, not because of the pain or the hell of looking down at what should have been his body and seeing a metal cage, but because he was wasting time, losing Kyle with every passing second.

Kyle pushes his lips together and looks at Marcus' metal hand. Marcus knows he wants to hold it again, to examine it exhaustively. He almost holds it out for Kyle to take, but stops himself.

"Come on," Marcus says. "Let's go eat something." Maybe he can chew and swallow, just to make Kyle feel more comfortable, maybe he can pretend to still be mostly human. But he is, he must be. He still feels human, confused and hopeless.

"You're not a machine," Kyle says, looking up into Marcus' eyes. "I know you're not."

"Right, I'm not. I've just got some metal parts."

Kyle nods slowly. "Maybe they can redo the skin on your hand," he says.

"I doubt it. But it makes me look kind of bad ass, right?" Marcus holds up the hand and wriggles his metal fingers, then feels like an idiot and drops it down to his hip again. Kyle shakes his head, and Marcus is actually kind of hurt by the thought that Kyle doesn't like the hand after all, but then he realizes that Kyle isn't answering his question. Kyle's eyes are wet again, and he makes a weird, sorrowful, bird-like noise as he leans forward to put his arms around Marcus' shoulders and pull him close.

"Oh," Kyle says, and Marcus waits for more, but that's all there is, aside from some sniffling and Kyle's wet face pressed to his neck. Marcus wraps his arms around Kyle's skinny frame and lets Kyle hold on to him for a long time, squeezing Kyle a little when his shoulders jump with silent sobs. Finally, Marcus can't stand to listen to the poor kid's stomach growl any longer, and he takes him to get something to eat. He's kind of sorry to end the thing that they'd been wallowing in, just the two of them in the quiet of the empty room. It's rare, that kind of peace, here in the apocalypse. Maybe it's rare anywhere.

*

Marcus eats, wishing he didn't have simulated taste buds as he chokes down instant oatmeal that probably went out of date back at the turn of the century. He's eating mostly just to reassure Kyle, who keeps sneaking looks at him. Blair haunts the dining area, smiling at Marcus from across the room. He wonders if she wants to be fucked, because she's sure looking at him like she does. Before prison, he would have thrown his pants down and done it right here if she'd let him, but things changed behind bars. The last person Marcus had any kind of feelings for was a man, or maybe a boy, because he was only nineteen. Someone he tried and failed to protect. He glances at Kyle, needing to check, again, all the time, to make sure he's really here, really safe.

After eating, Marcus and Kyle are shown to a storage closet that is to be their quarters. Apparently the bunks are full, which doesn't make any sense, because these motherfuckers must die every day. Marcus thinks it's more likely that the other men don't want him sleeping among them, and that's fine by him. If they put Kyle up with him just to give their story about the lack of bunks credulity, that's fine, too, because he doesn't trust those people with this kid. Star is ushered off with some old lady who tagged along from Skynet, and Marcus is glad to be alone with Kyle, even in the cramped quarters they've been given. He can barely stretch out fully on the dirty old mattress he and Kyle have been provided with, but it's enough just to have a quiet room and Kyle yawning beside him.

"I'm glad they let us stay together," Kyle says, grinning over at Marcus, his eyes already dropping shut. Marcus wonders when he last slept.

"Get some sleep," Marcus says, but Kyle doesn't need any direction. His eyes are shut and he's sighing against the mattress. Maybe tomorrow Marcus will steal a pillow for him. At least a blanket. He watches Kyle's body fold under the weight of his exhaustion, his shoulders slumping and his lips parting. Marcus tries not to think of that boy he knew in prison. Andy. Someone way too soft for the world he'd landed in. Fuck. But this is different. It's not like Marcus wants Kyle the way he came to want Andy. Kyle is precious and holy and Marcus would never touch him. Except that he already has, and he wants to again, wants to touch that impossibly soft cheek while Kyle sleeps. Marcus rolls onto his back, and he's grateful as hell when there's a knock on the door, an excuse to think about something else.

Blair smiles at him when he pulls the door open quietly, careful not to wake Kyle. Marcus slips out into the hallway and shuts the door just as carefully, letting out his breath. He's more than ready to be distracted by Blair, who is already touching his ass.

"I was afraid I'd never see you again," she says. She's beautiful, too beautiful for this place, like Kyle. Marcus is goddamn lucky to have found them both, and when Blair hugs him he pulls her closer, the warmth of her body an instant comfort.

"C'mere," she whispers, pulling at Marcus' hand, but he won't let her lead him away.

"I can't leave him alone," he says, flicking his head toward the storage room door. Blair raises an eyebrow.

"He'll be okay," she says. "It's safe here."

"No way," Marcus says, maybe a little too sharply. "I don't trust these men. He's – Kyle – he's weak, he's small."

"I bet he could take care of himself," Blair says, her eyes warming, as if she's charmed by the fact that Marcus feels protective of Kyle.

"Look," Marcus says quietly, drawing her closer. "I don't even know – if those parts work anymore."

Blair touches Marcus' face, giving him a sympathetic look. She pushes her lips together and places her hand on his chest, over his heartbeat.

"You think I just want you for sex?" she says.

"I don't know what you want. I'm just saying."

"We could find out together," Blair says softly. She reaches down and flattens a hand over Marcus' cock. He hasn't gotten hard since he woke up in the future, and he's actually pretty terrified that he won't be able to, but there's a familiar stirring when Blair begins to massage him gently, and he groans under his breath with relief as he begins to stiffen up. Blair beams at him as if she's proud.

"See," she whispers, standing on her tiptoes to breathe against his lips. "Nothing to worry about."

He kisses her then, breathing harshly into her mouth, suddenly so glad to be alive. They stumble around a corner and find an empty laboratory, and he fucks her while she sits on the edge of a table, her legs spread out around him and her head tipped back, eyes shut, mouth open. She's quiet except for a few very low moans, and she feels so good, so human and real and warm. Marcus comes with a growl, pulling her to him so that he can smell her hair as his orgasm rips out of him. That's one thing he always missed in prison. He came to appreciate a hard cock and a tight asshole, but there were little things, like the smell of a woman's hair, that couldn't be replaced by anything he could find on a man.

When they're through she wants to kiss him for a long time, and he allows it, until he starts to grow too worried about Kyle. He gives her a last, slow kiss against the side of her neck, winks at her and leaves her as she's refastening her pants. When he returns to the storage closet and lies down beside Kyle he feels guilty about something, but he's not sure what it is. Guilty that he fucked Blair? That he left her alone so he could come back here and sleep beside Kyle? Maybe it's something more complicated than that. He feels like he owes them both something that he doesn't know how to give.

He rolls toward the wall and listens to Kyle's breathing, which is barely audible, but enough to make Marcus remember sleep, and to fall happily into it.

*

When he wakes up, no way to know what time it is, Kyle is clinging to him, lying against his back with his hand tight over Marcus' hip. For awhile Marcus just lies there, taking deep breaths and staring at the wall. There are noises from beyond the closed door, heavy footsteps and conversation. It must be morning, unless these people never sleep. Marcus can't imagine what he'll do when he leaves this room. He can feel the warm push of Kyle's breath against the back of his t-shirt, and it makes him feel peaceful, surrendered.

He rolls away with a groan, turning onto his stomach. Kyle wakes instantly and blinks at him with confusion. This is only the second time Marcus has seen him sleepy, not angry or terrified. The kid is the only real wonder of this burned out world. Marcus wouldn't have survived here for ten minutes without his computer-enhanced brain and metal skeleton. Kyle is so soft, just skin and bones.

“You were gone,” Kyle says. “Or did I dream that?”

“You dreamed it,” Marcus says, and then he realizes that Kyle is talking about last night, when Marcus stepped out to fuck Blair. Kyle smiles and laughs a little, under his breath.

“I'm so glad you're here,” he says, whispering, as if someone else is listening.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You don't know. How it's been.”

Marcus can imagine. A teenager with only a little kid who doesn't speak for company. Jesus. That's the other thing: Kyle seems to be relatively sane. It's the real miracle of his survival.

They leave the room and are directed toward the showers, which are communal and not empty. Marcus feels strange washing skin that isn't really his, and it takes until he's rubbing soap over himself for him to realize that his skin has regenerated over his metal hand.

“Hey,” he says to Kyle, turning his hand over and then again, looking for seams. “Check it out.”

“Oh, wow!” Kyle beams and takes Marcus' hand in his, running his fingers over the new skin. Marcus looks over his shoulders, checking to make sure no one is watching. The last thing he needs around here is another reputation. He's been trying to block Kyle's body from view since they came in here, because there aren't a lot of women around and he knows exactly how things get between men when that's the case.

“Now, Pinocchio, you're a real boy,” Marcus says, taking his hand back. Kyle looks up in confusion and Marcus laughs. “Shit, never mind. You never saw any Disney movies, did you?”

“Never saw any movies at all,” Kyle says. “But my dad told me about some.”

“Hurry up,” Marcus says, handing him the soap. “Let's get out of here.” He tries not to look at Kyle himself, but the scars are hard to miss. It's not fair that Marcus can grow new skin overnight while Kyle has to keep his scars forever.

They report to Connor, who separates them. Kyle is to assist Dr. Something in the research lab, while Marcus has to report to the hangar to help repair aircraft. Marcus doesn't like being separated from Kyle, but Connor seems protective of him, too, and Marcus trusts him to keep Kyle safe. He gives Kyle a hard pat on the shoulder before heading for the hangar and Kyle looks up at him with subdued panic before following Connor away.

The work day passes slowly and most of the other guys get on Marcus' nerves. Blair comes by at one point to smile at him suggestively, and he knows she'll be back at his door tonight. It's fine by him, but he's not sure he's going to want her there every night, and he's worried that it's because he doesn't want to lie to Kyle again, to tell him that he only imagined that Marcus was gone.

At sunset, Marcus stands at the edge of the hangar and watches the ruined sky change. He's sore from working all day, which doesn't make sense. Why would the assholes who designed him leave him with the ability to feel pain, to want food, and sleep, and sex? He's thinking about this when someone comes up behind him and claps him on the shoulder, and he jumps, half-ready to fight, but it's just Kyle.

“Geez.” Kyle grins. “Kinda tense, huh?”

“Don't sneak up on me,” Marcus says, grumbling, embarrassed.

“Sorry. I just wanted to see if you were hungry.” He takes a piece of jerky from the pocket of his jacket. “This is the good stuff, I think. Your friend Blair gave it to me.” A pause. “She's nice.”

“Yeah. You keep that for yourself. They treating you okay in that lab?”

“Uh-huh. I don't really know why Connor wants me there, though. I'd rather be out here with you, learning how to fix stuff.”

“What do they have you doing?”

“Nothing much. Dr. Yune was talking about time travel.” Kyle grins. “He says it's already been invented, in the future. They have evidence, or whatever. I don't really get it, to be honest with you.”

“Time travel. Jesus. You just let me know if anyone gives you a hard time.”

“No one's going to give me a hard time.”

“Bullshit. Just watch out.”

Kyle laughs under his breath and leans beside Marcus at the edge of the hangar, chewing his jerky. They watch the sun disappear, and when Kyle presses another strip of jerky into Marcus' hand he accepts it.

“What?” Marcus says, because Kyle is grinning kind of strangely, his eyes on the horizon.

“Nothing. I just think it's funny that you're worried about me.”

“Why, 'cause you made it on your own for so long? Fine, but machines are one thing. People are something else.”

“Why would somebody here want to hurt me?”

“Men get lonely.” Marcus regrets saying so, and curses under his breath. The jerky has an unforgiving texture, making his teeth ache. Kyle stares at him until Marcus looks back.

“Well, it's true,” Marcus barks. “Don't look at me like that. Just – stay close to me. Like you are now. I'll take care of you.” He curses himself again, because he didn't mean to say that. Kyle is blushing.

“I'm a man, too, you know,” Kyle says, mumbling.

“You're sixteen.” Marcus doesn't want to think about what the fuck Kyle meant by that. Maybe he's just offended at the presumption that he needs taking care of. Yeah.

“Seventeen,” Kyle says. His gaze, shy and expectant, is burning against Marcus' cheek. Marcus gives him a steely look and Kyle wilts a little, his eyes dropping away.

“Last time I asked, you were sixteen.”

“Well, it's my birthday today.”

Marcus laughs, thinks he's joking, but Kyle is still staring at the floor like Marcus has just smashed his birthday cake, so maybe he's serious. He reaches down and takes Kyle's chin in his hand, lifting his face. Kyle's eyes are watery, but not wet. Marcus is definitely kind of fucked.

“You don't have to ask me to stay close to you,” Kyle says, his voice breaking, making him sound barely thirteen for a moment. “I want to anyway.”

“Good.” Marcus leaves it at that and walks back into the hangar, his breath hard and measured. Kyle follows him all the way back to their room. If they had something to do, a pack of cards or even a fucking book, Marcus would be able to resist, but there's nothing in the room except Kyle and the bed, and Kyle's hands are in Marcus' shirt, and he's whimpering against Marcus' lips as he tries to get him to kiss back.

“Please,” Kyle whispers. “I know you want to.”

“You don't know shit.” Marcus takes Kyle's head in his hands and holds him still. His fingers are tight over Kyle's temples, and he can feel the throb of Kyle's heartbeat there. Kyle is panting; he looks terrified.

“Take care of me,” he says, blinking tears, sniffling. “I need it.”

“You don't even know what 'it' is. I fucking hope.”

Kyle smiles a little, lips trembling. “I just know I want you – on me. In me.” His voice pinches up to almost nothing. Marcus groans, licking his lips, wishing he wasn't so goddamn hard for this, and that he was more surprised by Kyle's begging. Now it feels like he always knew this would happen. He wipes Kyle's cheeks dry with his thumbs.

“This isn't going to end well,” Marcus says, lowering his face halfway to Kyle's.

“Yes, it is,” Kyle says. He puts his palm over Marcus' crotch, cautious, testing. Marcus jerks his chin to the side, his eyes closing as Kyle's fingers move on him timidly.

“Please,” Kyle whispers against Marcus' mouth. “Please, please.” He kisses Marcus' closed lips so softly, begging to be taught how to do more. Marcus lets out a shuttered breath and opens his eyes. He puts his forehead against Kyle's, still holding Kyle's face in both hands, his thumbs over Kyle's high cheekbones.

“You look like a fucking angel,” Marcus says. “No one should be allowed to touch you. Least of all me.”

“But I need it, God, please, I need to be t-touched.” More tears; they tickle down the sides of Marcus' thumbs, hot against his palms. “Only by you, you can ha -have me, I'm – mmph.”

Marcus should go easy on him, take it slow, but he can't help it: he licks Kyle's lips apart and pushes his tongue deep into Kyle's mouth, tasting him, swallowing his helpless moans whole. Kyle's mouth is so wet for him, his sweet little tongue meeting Marcus' clumsily, eagerly, and Marcus believes it more than he's ever believed anything, drunk on the taste of Kyle already: the kid needs to be touched. He needs Marcus to touch him, make him feel good, hold him, hide him, protect him. Marcus should have stolen a blanket. His coat will just have to do.

“Tell me what you want,” Marcus says, speaking into Kyle's mouth. Their eyes are locked as their chests heave together, Kyle's hands shaking on Marcus' sides. “Tell me.”

“I – I want – like it was that day on the rooftop, when the h-hunter killer – and you were on top of me. I just want you on top of me, holding me down.”

That can certainly be arranged. Marcus guides Kyle down to the mattress, maybe not as slowly as he could have; Kyle bounces a little against it, against Marcus, who flattens him there. He kisses Kyle deeply, moaning into him when their erections grind together, Kyle's hips bucking wildly, his teeth scraping Marcus' lips as he whimpers. Marcus is relentless, needing this pretty fucking badly himself, and he grinds against Kyle's cock, making him cry and thrash and finally come, his whole body wracked by it, arching as he sobs it out. Kyle's hands are pinned under Marcus', pressed to the mattress over his head, and he squeezes Marcus' hands tightly as he rides his orgasm out, twitching under Marcus' weight, his eyes shut and his head lolling back before he lifts his face to press his hot cheek to Marcus' mouth. Marcus gives him what he needs, kissing Kyle's cheeks, licking up his tears.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Kyle whispers breathlessly. “Yes, oh, thank you.”

“Don't mention it,” Marcus says, grunting the words out as he ruts against Kyle's trembling thigh, thinking about being inside him, how that tight, perfect heat is gonna bring him to tears. He growls when he comes, seeing white, his hands so tight around Kyle's that it feels like he's holding both their heartbeats in his palms.

“Yeah,” Kyle whispers in Marcus' ear as Marcus' body jerks with his orgasm. “Yeah, God, yeah.”

Marcus laughs crazily, dizzy, feeling like he could sleep for days. He hides his face against Kyle's cheek.

“You like watching me come?” he says. Kyle's arms close around Marcus' shoulders, and he pushes a hand into Marcus' hair, soothing his fingers through it as if Marcus is the one who needs to be comforted after what just happened.

“I like it,” Kyle says, his voice small, embarrassed. He wraps both legs around the small of Marcus' back and sighs heavily. “You look like a fucking angel,” he whispers. Marcus laughs.

“Okay. Sure. Happy birthday, by the way.” Marcus rolls onto his side, shrugging his jacket off, flushed as if he's one hundred percent human, sweating. Kyle burrows against Marcus' chest with another contented sigh, and Marcus drapes his jacket around Kyle's shoulders, arranging it over him before closing Kyle into his arms.

“I'm gonna get you a real blanket,” he says as he strokes Kyle's hair. Kyle grins and looks up at him.

“You've got freckles,” Kyle says, touching Marcus' cheek.

“They're not real.” Marcus isn't sure why he said that, feels bad. Kyle frowns a little and leans up to press a very soft kiss to Marcus' cheek, the tip of his tongue darting out to lick over the simulated freckles that the machines felt the need to leave there when they remade him, just under his eye.

“Yes, they are,” Kyle says. He drops back down to press his face to Marcus' chest, closing his eyes. Marcus sighs and pulls Kyle closer. His hair smells pretty fucking good, so good that Marcus leaves his face buried in Kyle's curls as he drifts off to sleep. He knows from experience that this is what it's like to be completely fucked: you're so far gone that you don't even care. You're glad.

*

Marcus is conscious of the clockwork efficiency of his body even as he sleeps, can feel systems recharging and sub-programs running, the cold come in his underwear being detected and considered, his metal components quietly displeased by the phenomenon. Meanwhile, Kyle is a warm, helpless bundle in Marcus' arms, whimpering and clinging in his sleep, his nose pushing up under Marcus' chin. Marcus wants to take him away from here, to someplace safe, but there's no place like that anymore.

There's a knock on the door and Marcus is awake in an instant, the grogginess of sleep reduced to the blink that it takes a computer to return from its screen saver when it's mouse is nudged. He sits up on an elbow and evaluates the situation, human heart pounding. The knock comes again, and the softness of it tells him that it's just Blair. He sighs with relief and twists out of Kyle's grip.

“Marcus,” Kyle says, whining his name out softly, his hand still closed around the hem of Marcus' t-shirt. His eyes are closed, but he seems to have his own fine-tuned awareness of the world around him, even while sleeping.

“It's okay,” Marcus whispers. He kisses Kyle over his temple, where he can see fine blue veins beneath his pale skin. “Go back to sleep.”

Marcus goes to the door and steps out quickly, Blair smiling and already heading toward the lab where they fucked yesterday. Marcus reaches out and grabs her hand, pulling her back.

“I can't leave the kid,” he says. “It's his birthday.”

Blair laughs, then frowns a little when she sees that Marcus is serious.

“So, what, you're in there eating cake and playing pin the tail on the donkey? He won't miss you for ten minutes.”

“I – listen.” Marcus flattens his back to the door. He probably should fuck Blair, get it out of his system, let Kyle remain a virgin until – until what? Like somebody better is going to come along, someone who will treat him as carefully as Marcus will, hold him afterward, watch the door while he recovers?

“There's just a lot going on,” Marcus says, feeling pathetic. He's rejected women before, but none like Blair. “I don't know if I should be doing all this with you. Right now.”

“All this? It's sex, Marcus. It's not that complicated. Not for me, anyway.” She looks at the closet door and sighs. “Is everything alright with him?”

Marcus isn't sure what she's asking.

“Yeah,” he says. “He's fine. He's just been on his own for a long time.”

She frowns a little and his heart pounds faster. She and the others might try to take Kyle away from him. He can understand why they'd want to. Hard to believe that no one could take better care of Kyle than he can, but he knows it's true, feels it deep in the human parts of him that remain.

“You really care about him, don't you?” Blair says, her features softening. “Well, of course you do. You were going to walk right into Skynet headquarters for him. And you did, you got him back.” She smiles. “He came to talk to me this morning. Asked a ton of questions about you. Wanted to hear the whole story of how you and I met. How'd he get so sweet, growing up in a world like this?”

“Beats the hell out of me. Listen, is there someplace where he can clean up with a little privacy? I don't want Connor's fucking foot soldiers, you know. Getting any ideas.”

Blair barks out a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. Marcus scowls and she waves her hand through the air apologetically.

“God, you've probably got a point,” she says. “It's just – cute, or something, you thinking about that. But yeah, there's a shower the women use, Connor's wife and me, a handful of others. We're an endangered species around here.”

She gives him a meaningful look and he quirks his mouth, thinking about how easy it would be to just take her around the corner and fuck her like he did last night, but she deserves more than that.

“I'm kind of fucked up,” he says. “So. You're better off.”

“Haven't heard that line since the apocalypse,” Blair says.

“Listen, uh.” Marcus is ready to change the subject. “Where can I get blankets, maybe a pillow or something? For the kid? Some clean clothes.”

She stares at him for a moment, maybe half-understanding, then smiles.

“I'll show you,” she says. “Bring him. The women's shower's free, on account of Kate being in labor. Pretty much all the chicks in the base are huddled around her, helping.”

“Jesus. Is she going to be okay?”

“I think so. I can't – I, uh. I've seen a delivery go bad, before. My sister. So. That's why I'm not there.”

Marcus puts a hand on her shoulder, and she picks it up, bringing it to her lips for a kiss.

“What happened to the metal?” she asks, stroking her fingers over his knuckles.

“Skin grew back. Happened overnight.”

“Shit. Must be nice.”

“I guess. Not really. I'll get Kyle.”

Blair shows them the supplies, which are located in the laundry room they wandered into the day before, and then the private shower. She leaves them there, Kyle still half-asleep and Marcus feeling uneasy, thinking of Connor's wife screaming through labor pains. He turns the water on for Kyle and laughs; it's much warmer than the icy spray back in the communal showers.

“Stay with me,” Kyle says, catching Marcus' sleeve as he starts to walk out of the shower. It looks like it used to be a supply closet, a shower head and drain specially rigged into it for Connor's wife. Evidence of the women who use it is lined up along a shelf at the back: shampoo and pinkish soap, scavenged things that have been secreted away. Marcus pulls off his clothes while Kyle stands under the water, yawning.

“Blair likes you,” Kyle says as Marcus rubs soap over his back. “That's why she showed you this place.”

“Yeah, well. She's my friend.”

Kyle says nothing for awhile, watching the soap foam around the drain. Marcus imagines Connor building this for his wife, to protect her from the others, because she's special, someone who deserves it. He imagines Kate offering it to the other women so that they could feel safe, too. These people looked at him with such hatred when they saw what he was. He can't really blame them.

“That feels good,” Kyle says softly. Marcus tries not to stare at him, even now, but he can't miss Kyle's hardon when he turns to press it against Marcus' thigh, looking up at him expectantly.

“Just relax,” Marcus says. He glances at the door of the room that leads into the shower. Blair said they'd be okay, but he feels nervous, probably shouldn't have gotten into the shower with Kyle. He looks down at Kyle, who's staring up at him, lips parted, worshipful. Marcus laughs and kisses his wet face, makes him smile.

“I think everything's going to be okay now,” Kyle says, whispering. Marcus sighs. He can feel Kyle's ribs when he runs his hands down over his skinny chest.

“Don't jinx it,” Marcus says. He hopes that Kyle is right, that Marcus won't be able to feel Kyle's ribs anymore in a few months, that Connor will have another breakthrough in the war against the machines. Time travel, okay. Why the fuck not. Marcus pulls Kyle against him and holds him under the water, wishing he could believe it will all be okay, that there's not some unforeseen darkness already closing in on them.

They dry off and dress in the clothes they took from the supply room, their old ones spinning in one of the washing machines that Kyle seems to be afraid of. Marcus doesn't mind new clothes, especially since his last set was stolen from a corpse before pristine scrubs were installed by the machines, but Kyle seems uncomfortable, itching at the collar of his t-shirt and adjusting the crotch of his baggy pants. Marcus drapes the resistance coat Connor gave to Kyle around Kyle's shoulders. It fits him like a tent, but Kyle is less fidgety once he has it on, pulling the flaps around him.

“Do you think Connor will let me fight with the others?” Kyle asks as they walk back to the room. “With you?”

“I don't know.” Marcus hopes not, but he doesn't say so. Kyle is an idealist, and he'll always want to flatten himself under a tank for some goddamn cause, apocalypse or not. Marcus knows the type. His brother was the same way, dove straight into the hereafter without blinking, without regret. For the fucking cause. Marcus thought he could help, keep Bobby safe, but he only helped him into his grave.

Back in the room, Kyle is as antsy as anyone who has just discovered sex, licking at Marcus' neck, writhing against him and laughing self-consciously. Marcus feels like slowing down a little, mostly because he's thinking about Connor's wife. He pins Kyle to the mattress, but Kyle just ruts up against him, moaning happily.

“Hey,” Marcus says. “You should sleep.”

“Why? I will, just, just –”

“Calm down. You'll mess up your new clothes.”

“I can take them off,” Kyle says. They've got blankets now, even a thin little pillow. Kyle looks princely with his head resting on it, his curls clean and damp. Marcus kisses him between his eyes.

“Connor's wife is in labor,” he says. “Blair told me.”

“Oh.” Kyle's face changes immediately. “Is she okay?”

“I think so. Blair will come and tell us eventually.”

Kyle is quiet for a moment, still beneath Marcus, then he's pushing his face up against Marcus', looking to be kissed. Marcus gives him what he wants, licking the clean soap smell from his soft skin. Kyle moans just a little, deep in his throat, and hooks one leg around Marcus' back.

“When you showed me how to hold onto my gun,” Kyle says, whispering against Marcus' lips. “That was when I first wanted this, I think. I got this feeling in my stomach. Kinda hurt, kinda felt good. Then, when we were in the tow truck, trying to get away, I don't think I've ever felt so good, like I could do anything if you were there with me, and I thought, when we were safe again, you would grab me and just, just never let me go.”

Kyle is pretty good at getting what he wants. Marcus doesn't want to ignore his erection anymore, and these clothes are a little scratchy from whatever shitty soap the resistance uses in their laundry machines. He peels his shirt off and watches Kyle's eyes scan over his body, both of them breathing harder.

“When did it start for you?” Kyle asks as Marcus pushes the resistance coat off of him.

Marcus doesn't even have to think about it.

“When you were in the transport.” He yanks Kyle's pants down, making him gasp. “Felt like I could tear through metal. Like you said – like I could do anything. Thought I was going to do it, too, that I was going to pull you out, grow a set of big, black wings and fly away with you and Star. That's how – that's when I knew. Then I fell.”

Marcus knows that's how it always happens. This euphoric feeling, followed by a crashing fall to earth. He lets it take him, presses his naked body over Kyle's, takes Kyle's cock in his hand and watches him gasp and squirm as if it hurts to feel this good, as if he can't stand it, and of course he can't – he comes everywhere within seconds. Nobody has ever touched Kyle's cock before – maybe not even him, considering the sleeping arrangements he had when Marcus found him.

“Show me,” Kyle says, gasping the words into Marcus' mouth, his come cooling between them. “Show me what to do.” His hand finds Marcus' cock and he gives it a few sloppy gropes, making Marcus groan.

“God,” Kyle breathes out. “It's big.”

Marcus laughs, then Kyle does, too, and Marcus is pretty sure he'll never be able to show someone with eyes as sweet and clear as Kyle's how to suck cock without demonstrating on him first, so he just kisses Kyle's neck, thumbs over his hard nipples, waits for him to get it up again. Kyle moans and writhes, his cock already lifting against Marcus' hip.

“You did need this, didn't you?” Marcus says, taking one of Kyle's firm little ass cheeks in his hand. He feels crazy, and like nothing will ever matter but this. Kyle is nodding against his jaw, whining.

“Needed you,” Kyle says, panting. “And, and – what – ahh!”

Kyle quite literally screams when Marcus takes his cock into his mouth, and Marcus would tell him to be quiet, but his tongue is kind of busy, tasting the bitterness of the come that's dried on Kyle's cock and the sweetness of his secret skin, which feels like silk between Marcus' lips. He's glad that Kyle already came so that he can enjoy this for more than half a second, and so that Marcus can keep hearing those sounds he's making, sharp and panicked one minute – hahh! oh! – and then so soft – mhmm, ahh. Marcus' name get mixed in, too, gasped and broken. He's hard as fuck by the time Kyle shoots his load down Marcus' throat, nearly choking him with a violent jerk of his hips.

Marcus crawls up Kyle's shivering body and smirks at his astonished expression, pulling the blankets over him. He settles against Kyle's side and kisses his cheek, thinking of his own very first blow job, and how he would have married that girl without a second thought in the awestruck minutes that followed.

“God – God,” Kyle says. He curls his fingers around Marcus' bicep, staring up at him like he has just grown wings, like they're terrifying and beautiful, looming over him now. “That – that – did you swallow that?”

“Yeah.”

Kyle exhales in disbelief and puts his hand over Marcus' stomach.

“You swallowed that,” he says, as if Marcus is the first one who's ever done this for anyone. Kyle looks up at Marcus, eyelashes fluttering. “Let me see,” he whispers, mouth already closing over Marcus', tasting himself on Marcus' lips. His tongue slides against Marcus' and he moans as he pulls back, making Marcus' cock throb. “Tastes kinda weird,” he says, looking into Marcus' eyes questioningly.

“The taste is not the point.” Marcus shifts uncomfortably and reaches down to stroke himself. Kyle watches, his mouth open, mesmerized. He puts his hand over Marcus' and rubs his fingers through the wet slit of his cock, looking up with alarm when Marcus bites down on his groan.

“What should I do?” Kyle asks. He looks nervous. Marcus shrugs.

“Nothing,” he says. “Just watch.”

Kyle does for about five seconds, then squirms down to kiss the head of Marcus' cock, his tongue darting out here and there, licking up the precome, making Marcus' whole body pulse with the breathless need to be inside Kyle, to fuck him so goddamn hard, but of course he can't do that, and just thinking about it makes him come as Kyle's tongue travels slowly up the underside of his dick.

Marcus uses one of the damp towels they brought back from the shower to clean his come from Kyle's face, Kyle blushing and apologizing, Marcus kissing him and shaking his head, feeling like he did the first time, ready to give Kyle everything he has.

“I'll swallow it next time,” Kyle says. Marcus snorts.

“Whatever you say.” He picks up the resistance coat and helps Kyle into it before pulling him down under the blankets. They sleep like that, naked legs twisted together, Kyle waking from time to time to push his soft face against Marcus' neck and whisper through what might be dreams. Marcus pets him back to sleep and wonders how long this can possibly last. He's never had anything good for very long, and he's pretty sure that Kyle's never had anything good at all, delirious with happiness after a blow job. But Marcus is kind of shattered by what he said, about how he'd felt like he could do anything because he'd be able to be with Marcus when it was all over. Marcus remembers showing Kyle how to hang onto his gun, a kind of heat pooling in his stomach then, too. The kid needed someone to take care of him. It was the first time Marcus had ever volunteered for that sort of job. First time he'd ever volunteered for anything. He thinks again of his brother, and how no good deed goes unpunished. So it's good that Marcus has tainted this one with sex, with selfishness. It just doesn't feel like that with Kyle cuddled against him, clean and warm in his idealist's jacket. It's something much bigger than sex, and that's why Marcus feels doomed, because he might have a lot of shiny new parts since the robots reconstructed him, but he's never going to grow wings.

*

Kate's baby is born that night, a healthy girl named Sarah. The mood in the base is celebratory, the birth of Connor's daughter coming on the heels of the victory at the Skynet headquarters. Even Connor, who is still weak from his injuries and hobbling around with the help of a cane, seems cheerful, accepting the congratulations of his men. He comes over to Kyle in the dining hall, where he's sitting with Marcus and Star, and smiles down at Kyle in a way that makes Marcus nervous.

“Congratulations!” Kyle says brightly. “Is Kate doing okay?”

“She's fine,” Connor says. “Have you got everything you need?”

“Yeah.” Kyle sneaks a look at Marcus, which Marcus really wishes he hadn't done, because he can feel Connor's eyes on him afterward. He looks up at Connor, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

“Glad everything went okay,” Marcus says. Connor nods curtly and pats Kyle's shoulder before leaving.

“He looks sick,” Kyle says as Connor walks off, clearly struggling with the cane; a walker would serve him better, but he'd never let his men see him like that.

“He'll be alright,” Marcus says. If Connor dies while his wife is still weak from childbirth this place might fall to chaos. Marcus would take Kyle and Star away if that happened; Blair, too, if she was willing to come. He sees her headed toward them and lifts a hand to wave.

“I guess you've heard the good news,” she says. She stands behind Star and plays with her hair. Star gives Marcus a look that tells him she's annoyed, and he smirks.

“It's so great,” Kyle says. “The machines can make more of each other in their factories, but it really means something when we make more humans.” He blushes and looks down at his plate. Blair laughs.

“Sure does,” she says, smoothing Star's hair down again. She looks at Marcus, and Marcus feels the rickety database that got downloaded into his brain processing what passes between them in a way that he might not have considered on his own: oh, fuck. He didn't use a condom when he fucked Blair the other day. Perfect.

She walks off and Kyle stares at Marcus as he watches her go. He looks kind of worried when Marcus glances over at him, and Marcus gives his back a quick pat.

“Here's to human life,” he says, raising his cup of water.

“I didn't mean anything bad about you!” Kyle says. “You're human. You are.”

“No worries.” Marcus pats Kyle's back again and gives Star a look, because she's staring at him like she knows everything, which she's always kind of done. It's unnerving.

The next couple of days are quiet on the base, the Connors recovering and spending time with their new baby while the resistance gears up for its next big strike. Marcus finds a pack of cards and plays with Kyle, Star, and Blair, and sometimes, when Blair lets loose her wild laugh, he doesn't mind the idea that she could be pregnant with his kid. Then Kyle's eyes will glitter with his smile as he puts down a good hand, and Marcus will start praying again that he hasn't tied himself to Blair that way. He's got enough people to look after as it is, and he does so as best he can, stealing little things for Kyle and Star, and sometimes for Blair. People have secret stashes all over the base, and Marcus is good at finding them, just like he's good at fixing machines now, refurbishing engines in the hangar while the others stand back and watch, awestruck and suspicious.

When he's alone with Kyle, he teaches him things, slow and patient, whispering shhh when Kyle cries out with surprise, his head tipping back as his body arches into Marcus' touch. Kyle clings so tightly in the aftermath, sobbing out Marcus' name like a broken little plea, pressing wet kisses to his neck. The first time Marcus pushes a finger into him, Kyle won't let him take it out, even after he's come.

“Stay in me,” he whispers against Marcus' mouth, and Marcus groans, his whole body thrumming with it, making Kyle shudder and smile beneath him.

“You could put your cock in me,” Kyle says one night when they're both spent, Marcus curled around Kyle under the blankets, Kyle's back against his chest. “The way you put it in my mouth.”

Like he's the first one to come up with this idea. Marcus kisses down the back of Kyle's neck.

“Nah,” he says. “It'd hurt like hell. Trust me.”

“Trust you? How do you know?”

“'Cause I been to prison. Well, this body hasn't, but they left me with those memories. Nice of them.”

“Prison? People did that to you there? And it hurt?”

“Yep.”

“Those fuckers.”

“They got what was coming to them eventually, don't worry.”

“What was coming to them? Did you kill them or something?”

“Me and a buddy of mine. Hey. Forget it. Doesn't matter.”

“Does too matter.” Kyle turns in Marcus' arms and presses his face against Marcus' chest, writing things on Marcus' back with his finger. Marcus isn't supposed to be able to read the letters that Kyle spells out, shouldn't be able to, but his hyperactive nervous system never rests. Kyle writes his name, mostly, as if Marcus is a beloved possession that Kyle wants to lay claim to forever, and then writes KR + MW, which is so ridiculous that it's almost profound.

“Who taught you how to read and write?” Marcus asks.

“My dad. I'm not that good, though. Sometimes, in the lab, Dr. Yune has to teach me words, what they mean.”

“What happened to your dad?”

“You know.” Kyle flattens his hand against Marcus' back. “The machines.”

“Sorry.”

“I'm sorry, too. About what happened to you. But why were you in prison?”

“My brother. It's a long story.”

“Your brother? Was he in prison, too?”

“He was dead.”

Kyle sighs like Marcus is breaking his heart. He presses little kisses to Marcus' chest, as if he's writing things there in some other alphabet, one Marcus' mechanical nervous system won't be able to decipher.

“How'd he die?” Kyle asks.

“Uh, well. His best friend went to war and came back in a box. Bobby pretty much lost his shit. He broke into this governor's house. Just 'cause he was a Republican. I drove him there because – I don't know – I guess I thought he'd back out of it if I was there with him. Shoulda known better. Cops came, we drove off, cops followed. The car – I was driving too fast. Crashed. Bobby – he was dead – they crashed into us, the cops, both of 'em died. Not sure why I didn't. Then I just tried to get my brother out of the car, like it would matter if I could, and more cops came to arrest me. The whole fucking thing. A train wreck. That was always the way things were for me and Bobby. Trouble and Big Trouble. That's what we were called at school. I was Trouble, he was Big Trouble. Only 'cause he was older. And smarter, at least until Tim died. More dangerous.”

The only light in the room is from a tiny vent at the top of the wall across from the door, which leads to a chamber like the one where Marcus was detained when he first came to the base. There's some natural light filtering through it, from far off, enough to let Marcus see the expression on Kyle's face. He looks riveted, horrified.

“So, I killed three people,” Marcus says, staring back, unblinking. “I was on death row when I gave my body to Cyberdine. I guess you don't know what death row is. They killed me, basically, for what I did. Everything except for my brain and my heart. Fucking assholes left my heart.” He swallows heavily and finds Kyle's hands under the blankets, brings it up and presses it over his heartbeat, which is wild and nervous as he watches Kyle's eyes.

“But you were only trying to help your brother,” Kyle says, his voice soft, startled.

“If I really wanted to help him – shit, I don't know. I would have done something other than offer to drive him there. I just didn't want him to go through that alone. I thought if he was going to crash and burn, at least I could keep him company. I fucking crashed, alright. Both of us burned up. But I'm here, and – it ain't right. Bobby would be all about this war, a real cause, he'd be at the forefront, ready to fight for humanity. Me, shit. This is all I want.” He combs his fingers through Kyle's hair, and Kyle lets out a deep breath. He kisses Marcus on the lips, timidly at first, then deeper, pushing his breath into Marcus' mouth like he wants to give him something human, let him swallow down something real.

“This is all anybody wants,” Kyle whispers, his hand still pressed over Marcus' heart. “This is what we're fighting for. You belong here as much as anybody.”

The next morning, Connor announces a new mission for his troops: twenty men and two jet fighters will scan down the California coast, all the way to what used to be the Mexican border. They'll recruit survivors on the way, set up sentries. He won't be going with them. It's not said aloud, but it's clear that his health is deteriorating. When he's finished with his speech his wife wheels him away in his chair.

Marcus is assigned to the mission; Kyle is not. Kyle is upset, on the verge of tears, and he begs an audience with Connor, but Kate tells him that Connor's decision not to use him is final. He's still too young. Kyle goes back to the room and Marcus finds him there, hiding his face in the pillow.

“It's not fair,” Kyle says. “I survived for six years on my own after my dad died. How many of them can say that?”

“Six years, Jesus,” Marcus says, scratching his fingers through Kyle's hair. Blair trimmed his curls off, at Kyle's request, to make him look tougher. Marcus misses them. “How'd you do it?”

“I don't know.” Kyle wipes at his face and sits up. He hooks his hand into the collar of Marcus' shirt. “Don't go,” he says. “Don't leave me here. Take me with you. Who cares what Connor says? You're stronger than him.”

Marcus snorts. “You don't want me running this show, believe me.” He pulls Kyle into his lap and cradles him there, secretly glad that he'll stay here, safe inside the base. Marcus would rather die alone than bring Kyle into the line of fire with him, though he doesn't doubt that Kyle could handle himself. He strokes Kyle's back and wonders if he could refuse the assignment, just stay here with him.

“Blair's coming on the mission,” Marcus says. This wrenches a sob from Kyle, who clings tighter, his legs locking around the small of Marcus' back. “I want you to sleep with Star and Virginia while I'm gone. Anybody gives you any trouble, go right to Connor and Kate. Okay?”

Kyle sits back, wiping his nose with his sleeve. He gives Marcus such a pitiful look that Marcus can't help but grin, which makes Kyle scowl petulantly and press his forehead to Marcus' shoulder again.  
“What if you don't come back?” he says.

“I'll be back. Don't worry.” Marcus closes his arms around Kyle and rocks him a little, wishing that his promises meant anything, but Kyle watched his father get murdered by machines when he was ten years old, and he knows exactly what promises like this are worth.

“What if they want you and Blair to stay at one of the sentry points? What if they want her to have your babies?”

Marcus laughs. “I think Blair would say 'hell no' to that directive.”

“Yeah, right. She wishes she was in here sleeping with you. I can tell.”

“So what? I'm yours.”

Kyle sits back and smiles slowly, rubbing one finger over the hollow of Marcus' throat, his eyes cast downward.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice rough from crying. “You are.”

That night, with Kyle sleeping against his chest, Marcus stares at the ceiling and prays that Blair isn't pregnant. He prays that Kyle will do as he asked and sleep with Virginia and Star, though he probably won't, he'll stay here alone so he can pull himself off, thinking of Marcus, smelling him in the blankets. Marcus prays that Connor won't die. He's not sure why that seems just as important as anything else, but the answer is humming through his central processors, just out of reach of his consciousness.

*

They leave early the next morning for the mission, Marcus lingering in the room to give Kyle a long kiss goodbye. Kyle follows him out to the hangar and watches, arms crossed, Kate beside him with the baby. Marcus boards a Jeep and waves, and they both wave back.

The mission is dull at first, but becomes quickly exciting as they get further down the coast. Marcus appreciates the opportunity to take down the machines, always terrified that something they implanted in his mind will override and make him turn on the others, but it doesn't happen, and by the second week they're beginning to treat him as if he's semi-human. It helps that he has Blair's friendship; she's already mended the bridges she burned when she tried to help Marcus escape, her infectious laugh and plucky optimism lifting the spirits of the others. At least five of them are in love with her, but none more than Benny, the stocky man who gives Marcus dirty looks no matter how many machines he takes down.

“Do you miss Kyle?” Blair asks Marcus one morning when he's washing his face in a desert stream, the others packing up the camp behind him.

“I hope he's alright,” Marcus says, dodging the question. Blair sits down beside him with a sigh.

“You know what's awesome?” she says, folding her arms into her lap. “Being on the fucking rag in the middle of an apocalypse. It's just an added layer of joy, since tampons are raining from the sky these days.”

“You – you got your –?” Marcus stares, and she smiles.

“Thought you might like to know that. You weren't the only who was worried. We were stupid. I just – got caught up.” She looks away, tugging at her bottom lip, self-conscious. “It was nice.”

“Yeah. Sorry. Wasn't thinking.”

“Is that why – you and Kyle – 'cause you don't want to knock me up?”

Marcus stares down at the water, which is perfectly clear, as if the robots are taking better care of their natural resources than humans ever could, but that's not fair. They don't need as much. It isn't devotion and drive that saps things dry, it's need.

“That would be a good excuse,” Marcus says. “But it's not mine.” He looks up at Blair, and she's all understanding and forgiveness, like always, her eyes soft, face open. He respects her too much to tell her anything but the truth. “I love him.”

“Well.” Blair looks down at her knees. “He's very lovable.”

“Listen, I was in prison. It messed me up.” He winces at this explanation. “It's got nothing to do with you.”

“No, it's alright.” She stands, forcing a laugh. “Just, you know. On the rag. Hormones.” She laughs a little more genuinely. “See, I should have known you were gay, what with my instinct to come over here and chat with you about my period.”

“Well, you had a real reason for that. I'm sorry – I shouldn't have – you're the kind of woman I would have wanted. If I wanted a woman.”

“Oh, it's not just about that,” she says, wiping at her eyes. Her resistance coat is almost as baggy as Kyle's, inherited from some guy three times her size when she outlived him. “I saw it, maybe even the first day we met. You walking through the desert, on your way to getting him back. How stiff you were when I leaned against you. You were taken.”

“It's just – he reminds me of someone I couldn't protect – this kid in prison – Jesus.” Marcus stands and flings the water from his hands. “Sometimes I can't believe my fucking life.”

“You're telling me.” Blair takes his arm and leads him back to camp. He wishes he could do something for her. Find a jumbo pack of tampons, maybe, in a watertight package, perfect condition.

The rest of the mission is relatively routine, recruiting easy since news of the victory at Skynet headquarters has gotten around. Marcus shares a tent with Blair, making most of the guys hate him all over again, but if they think he's sleeping with her, maybe that will buy him some time with Kyle. Some nights he sleeps with his face in Blair's hair, and in the mornings she rubs his shoulders, marveling at how the metal feels like bone. Marcus dreams about Kyle, about showing him the stream with the clear water and following it to a waterfall, bathing him behind its pale curtain, Kyle's bare skin slippery and cool against his. He wakes afraid that he's been moaning Kyle's name in his sleep, but if he has, Blair doesn't mention it. She tries to teach him how to braid her hair and he fails miserably, but his attempt makes her laugh hard, and it feels good, seeing her happy, if only for a moment.

When they return to the base he dismounts in the hangar, looking for Kyle among the crowd that's gathered to welcome the soldiers home. Marcus notices some of the men embracing others in more than a friendly-like way, and he can't believe that he's found another prison that he'd stay in forever just to watch over one of his fellow inmates. He finally sees Kyle running into the hangar, cheeks red with exertion, hands balled into fists, and he jumps onto Marcus so forcefully that he almost knocks him over, laughing as he lets Marcus lift him off the ground.

“Marcus, Marcus, Marcus, Marcus—” Kyle says his name about a thousand times, until it sounds meaningless, and he clutches at Marcus like he'll never let him go again. He feels heavier, not so frail with hunger. Marcus moans as he sets Kyle down, running his hands over his sides, feeling no ribs. Kyle beams up at him, and Marcus looks over his shoulder to make sure no one has noticed this little reunion, but they're all preoccupied with their own.

“You been alright?” Marcus asks. He touches Kyle's chin and begins to walk from the hangar, anxious to be alone with him.

“Yeah, have you?” Kyle asks. He's smiling like he doesn't know how to stop.

“Fuck no. Missed you.”

Marcus can feel Kyle's giddy happiness like a star that's close to inevitable explosion, and he's afraid that everyone they walk past in the halls must see it on him, on both of them, how vulnerable they are for this thing they need from each other. He doesn't care. One of Kyle's curls is starting to grow back, flipping up ridiculously over his forehead, and it's driving Marcus crazy, making the walk to their room feel ten miles long.

“Marcus,” someone calls out just when he's finally put his hand on the doorknob, and he could swear he hears Kyle whine in frustration as he turns to see who's called to him. It's Connor, of fucking course. Still in the wheelchair, looking worse than he did when Marcus left.

“Yeah?” Marcus doesn't call him 'sir.' It's a point of contention, and it makes Kyle blush, but Marcus knows he loves it, watching Marcus get away with insubordination, even if he'd never dream of committing any himself, as devoted as he is to the idea of Connor the savior of mankind.

“I need to speak to you,” Connor says. He's pointedly not looking at Kyle.

“Can it fucking wait? I just got back.”

Connor pauses to consider the request. He knows Marcus will put up a fight if he insists, and he looks as if he doesn't have the energy. Connor drums his fingers on the wheels of his chair and coughs a little, weakly, deep in his chest.

“Come see me after you get resettled,” Connor says. Marcus appreciates the vagueness of the request. It could take him days to get resettled, after all.

“Sure,” Marcus says, already pushing into the room. Kyle follows him and shuts the door, and they stand still, beside the mattress, eyes locked, breathing hard, waiting. When they hear the creaky sound of Connor wheeling himself away, disappearing down the hall, Kyle moans and Marcus growls, grabbing Kyle and tackling him against the mattress, his kisses making Kyle squirm and laugh and then gasp.

“I saw something,” Kyle says, panting, rubbing his trapped cock up against Marcus' stomach. “Two guys, in the rec room. They didn't know I was there.”

“They – what—?” Marcus is dizzy with the taste of Kyle, licking Kyle as if to clean him, reclaim him, mark him as his again.

“The – the one guy was sort of braced against the wall, and he wasn't wearing any pants, and the other guy was holding him there, and – oh, Marcus, yeah, right there right there right there – ahhh—”

Marcus is biting at the place between Kyle's neck and shoulder that tastes like heaven and drives Kyle insane, and he's not sure he wants to hear the rest of this story, but Kyle gasps and continues.

“And the one guy was saying, 'oh, fuck me,' and the other guy, he was, he was fucking him, hard, with his dick, and it didn't look like it hurt, Marcus, ah, it looked like it felt so good. I got hard, watching. I came back here and thought about – you – doing it to me – touched myself – came so hard –”

“Shit,” Marcus says, the word burning up his throat, his cock full to bursting just from hearing Kyle talk like this, like he's a little ball of nothing but need, which is how Marcus wants him, really, needing everything Marcus can give him, needing it so bad he feels like he'll die without it.

“You wanna be fucked?” Marcus asks, whispering, his voice so deep that it makes Kyle shudder like a touch would. “You want me inside you?”

“Yes, oh, yes, please –”

“Gonna make you feel good.” Marcus tears Kyle's shirt off and rubs his hands over Kyle's heaving chest. “Gonna make you come so fucking hard.”

“Uhhh, yeah.”

Marcus has to force himself to slow down, beginning to scare himself a little. He gropes around beside the mattress and finds the little tube of lotion that he uses when he fingers Kyle, when he rubs that prostate like a magic button, covering Kyle's mouth with his own as he shouts out his orgasm. No amount of mouth-covering is going to quiet Kyle's screams when it's Marcus' big cock pounding against his prostate, he's gonna come and come and come until he's crying for mercy – but, no, shit, slow down, okay.

Marcus breathes hard through his nose, soothing his hands down the sides of Kyle's face, keeping his eyes on Kyle's, keeping himself under control. Kyle is surrendered, staring up at Marcus with boneless trust, smiling idiotically like he's just been told that he's getting a bike for Christmas.

“I've got to stretch you, first,” Marcus says. “Get you open wide for me.”

“Guh, yeah.” Kyle laughs, drowsy, hiccuping. “I love it when you talk during this.”

“God – you – just stay nice and relaxed, like this, like you are now. And if it hurts, we'll just wait it out.”

“Wait it out,” Kyle repeats, nodding solemnly. “'Kay. Marcus?”

“Yeah?”

“Virginia played some music for me and Star while you were gone. It made me cry. I thought of you.”

Marcus kisses Kyle, his hand spread open between Kyle's legs, not touching anything in particular, just holding him steady, pressing over the hottest part of his body.

“I saw this stream,” Marcus says. “It was so clear. I couldn't believe it was real. Not here, not in this world. It was like looking at you. Can't believe you're real.”

Kyle moans and Marcus kisses him for a long time, touching the beginnings of that curl over his forehead, pulling it softly through his fingers as he rubs between Kyle's legs, getting him ready, relaxing him even further, drinking down Kyle's little gasps. He feels like they've both got wings now, like they've left the world for the sky.

Being inside Kyle is like touching the perfect cold of that stream, something Marcus' mind can't fully contain, even with all its enhancements. His dual nervous systems struggle to keep up, the neatness of his robotic processes going berserk, sparking and overloading with unbearable pleasure, and with something else, too, something that breaks him irrevocably, but that's Kyle, it's Kyle that does that. Kyle with his stunned exhalations and pinched little moans, his fingers on Marcus' ass as he guides him in deeper, his hips shifting, eyes fluttering shut.

“Marcus,” Kyle whispers, and Marcus doesn't have to ask him if it feels good, because Kyle's whole face is flushed with the answer, his lips soft and swollen, fat pupils so dark, cheeks damp and pink. Kyle's body is throbbing slow around Marcus' cock, feeling him, opening for him, and still so goddamn tight.

“It's – it's –” Kyle whines a little at the effort to come up with words for this. He touches Marcus' face, tracing gentle fingertips over his freckles.

“Paradise,” Marcus says. He rubs a finger over Kyle's swollen bottom lip, could lie here all day and just touch him while he pulses like a heartbeat around Marcus' cock. “Closest we're gonna get.”

“Yes, oh.” Kyle arches as if a wave has broken inside him, and he pulls at Marcus' ass, but Marcus can't get any deeper, so he slides out a bit, then back in, slow, making Kyle sob and nod and pull at him again.

“That's good,” Kyle moans, drawing out the good in a way that makes Marcus laugh a little, because fuck yeah it is. He does it again, and again, picking up the pace at Kyle's urging, their bodies sliding together slickly as they flush hotter and hotter, both of them panting out choppy breaths. Marcus thinks of hearing a Frank Sinatra record when he was kid, late at night at his grandparents' house, shuddering and feeling as if he'd heard a prophecy about his future, one that he only now understands: Someday you will feel good enough to know why it hurt to hear this song. When Kyle comes Marcus hears the swell of the orchestra, that sound that seemed to promise something as it sent goosebumps across his skin. He pushes his own orgasm deep into Kyle, his face buried against Kyle's chest and his shout coming out high-pitched and desperate, as if it's been wrung out of him, two big hands around his waist, but those are Kyle's legs, squeezing hard.

Afterward, the world is different, like the way things are after a heavy rain, a change in the quality of the air, the smell of trees and the color of the light through the clouds. There are no trees and no clouds here, air that never moves, but it's all being filtered through something new, and Marcus didn't think it was possible for Kyle to look sweeter or more fragile, but here it is, everything impossible coming true. They leave a little distance between them on the mattress, still breathing hard, reaching across the empty space to touch each other almost nervously.

"So I want to hear these songs that made you think of me," Marcus says. Kyle grins.

"Every song did," he says. "I don't remember the names. I want to see that stream that looks like me."

"I'll take you there. I think about taking you away from here every day."

"Why? It's not so bad here."

"It could be, though. It could change so quick. There's – something dark. I don't know. Come here."

Kyle scoots into Marcus' arms with a groan, so spent that he's basically spineless, flopping against Marcus, who feels weak with exhaustion himself, but he still manages to pull Kyle to him and wrap entirely around him, legs curling into it, shoulders hunching onto Kyle's. He feels, for the first time since he found out what he is, as if something other than the machines has a hand in what this body is capable of.

"I think we did it better than those guys I saw in the rec room," Kyle whispers. He's blushing. Marcus kisses every inch of his face, understanding this stupid impulse for the first time in his life, the need to frantically press lips to skin, to try and communicate something incommunicable.

"We did," Marcus says. "Goddamn right we did."

*

Marcus wakes up feeling as if he forgot something, like he left an oven on somewhere in the past, when such a thing would matter. Kyle is curled up against him, deep asleep, and Marcus watches him breathe for awhile, the way his side moves with it, the way his lips have gotten chapped as they dried out overnight. He licks against them, wanting to soften them up, and Kyle moans weakly, his eyes cracking open. He smiles at Marcus and scoots closer, hiding his face against Marcus' neck.

"You're not sore, are you?" Marcus asks.

"No." He can feel Kyle's smile on his skin. "I feel different, though. Good."

There is something different about him; his voice is deeper, maybe just from such a good sleep. Marcus sighs and pets on him for awhile, wanting to live in this aftermath forever, just breathing in the smell of Kyle, which is a little sharper now, a little more like the smell of Marcus' own skin, metal and engine oil mixed in there somewhere.

"We should get up," Marcus says, but he doesn't mean it, and Kyle seems to understand this. He just sighs and goes soft again in Marcus' arms, sinking back into sleep. Marcus holds him tightly, thinking about all the things in this world that would hurt Kyle without even knowing what they were doing, what they were destroying. He wants to be Kyle's armor, to close around him and stay there always, or maybe to only let him out when they're in this room together, where he can peel Kyle's clothes off and rediscover the pale, soft miracle of his skin, untouched except for where Marcus has worshipfully caressed him.

"I saw a bird once," Kyle says, out of nowhere, maybe talking in his sleep.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, a bird. It was gray. Kind of fluffy, really skinny legs. This was when my dad was still alive. He started crying because he thought it was the last one of its kind, and he thought it looked confused, or sad, or something, like it didn't have anywhere to go. He tried to pretend like he wasn't crying, but he was. It was the only time he cried, I think. Maybe he cried when my mom died, but I can't remember that far back."

Marcus knows he should contribute something to this conversation. He hasn't even thought about his own parents in years, since jail, since those days when he would go to Bible study with Andy, for the donuts that the Baptists brought.

"Somewhere I bet there's a bunch of birds," Marcus says. He wants to ask how Kyle's mother died, but then he feels like he basically already knows.

"I think so, too!" Kyle lifts his face, suddenly wide awake. "Canada, maybe?"

"Sure. That seems like where they'd go."

"My dad said they used to migrate to Mexico for the summer. Like taking a summer vacation. Big flocks of them. He told me there was this horror movie where they were evil, but I don't think that would really happen. Though I guess they do eat each other. Don't they? Sometimes?"

"I guess. I think they all eat each other eventually. Animals. That movie wasn't scary at all, that one about the birds."

"You saw it?" Kyle sits up a little, excited.

"Some of it."

"Tell me about movies."

"Well. Most of them sucked. But sometimes they were great."

"Like when?"

"Like -- The Godfather. That was my favorite."

"Why? What happened? What does godfather mean?"

"Godfather was this thing where, when you had a baby, you picked someone to kind of, like, I don't know, give it presents and stuff? I didn't have one. But this was an Italian family, see --"

"Italian, like the country, Italy."

"Right."

"Me and my dad used to find 'Italian style' stuff when we were scavenging. Italian style croutons. They were too stale to eat. Smelled kind of good, though."

"Yeah, they have good food. Had? Is there an Italy anymore?"

"Who knows? I don't think so. Maybe. So what happened in the movie?"

"Well, they're a crime family, see, this family that the movie is about, and -- oh, hell, I don't know, someone shoots their father, so they retaliate by killing this cop and this guy who ordered the hit on their dad, but the goody-goody brother has to do it, and then he has to go into hiding, and he marries this really gorgeous chick but then they kill her, too --"

"Wait, who kills her?"

"The rival families. See, they're all trying to get control of the crime scene in New York, and the one family wants to sell coke, but Vito -- the dad of the main family -- he doesn't want to --"

There's a knock on the door, and Marcus is sorry to be interrupted, both because he and Kyle are completely naked and because it's kind of fun, watching Kyle's face as he listens with interest to the plot of The Godfather. It occurs to Marcus that they've still got a whole hell of a lot to talk about.

"What?" he calls, hiding Kyle against his chest again.

"It's me," Blair says. "They're having a little party out here, to celebrate us getting back. Just wanted to see if you guys wanted to come?"

"What's a party?" Kyle whispers, so Marcus figures they should go.

They dress, Marcus half-wishing that they could shower first, but kind of glad that they'll show up as they are, smelling like each other, like sex. Blair is waiting for them outside when they emerge, and she smiles, taking them in, knowing what they've been up to. She pulls at the curl growing over Kyle's forehead.

"Need another hair cut?" she asks.

"Nah," he says. His hair is a mess; she smoothes it down for him.

The party is in the rec room, which of course makes Marcus think of the two guys Kyle saw in here, and he grins when Kyle surreptitiously points them out, leaning together against the far wall, one drinking from the other's cup. They look like the prison couples Marcus knew in his past life: indistinguishably beefy and unshaven, one of them holding the cup, the other drinking from it. Marcus gets a cup of his own -- vodka mixed with something tangy -- and passes it to Kyle, who coughs at the alcohol taste and then drinks more, frowning a little.

"What do you think?" Marcus asks.

"I don't know," Kyle says. "It kind of burns."

"I guess you're officially a man now. First drink, etcetera. Next I'll have to teach you how to drive."

Kyle smirks and presses his fist to Marcus' shoulder.

"I can drive," he says. "Remember?"

"You call that driving? That was, like, going over a cliff. With style."

There's music at the party, provided by a laptop computer, the guy who's picking songs doing so very seriously, though Marcus images his selection is pretty limited. Blair dances with everybody, but mostly with Kyle, who won't get any ideas. She leads on the first couple of songs, twirling him, then tries to teach him how to lead. Kyle is laughing, red-cheeked. Star is leaning against the wall next to Marcus like she doesn't really get this dancing thing, either.

"Come on, you two," Blair says, walking over to them. She pulls Marcus from the wall and he groans, planting his feet. Kyle picks Star up and twirls her around, making her laugh. Marcus wonders if she'll grow up and fall in love with him because of the way he took care of her when she was little. He gives Blair a look and lets himself be pulled into the center of the room.

"See those two guys over there?" he says as Blair puts her hands on his hips, making him sway awkwardly. She turns and looks at the couple by the wall.

"Yeah?"

"They're together. Kyle saw them."

"Oh, Jesus. No shit." She laughs her brilliant laugh, lighting up the party like a string of lights. "Tommy and James. They'd been living together in a cave when we found them. Bringing them here didn't change anything, and that was back when there were more women."

"What happened to the women?"

"Some died, but mostly they ran off with guys who thought they could take better care of them than Connor could." She lifts Marcus' arm and he takes the hint, gives her a twirl. "Never to be heard from again, and so forth."

"Hmm. You ever think about leaving?"

"Nobody's asked me to."

"But you would go? If somebody asked?"

"It depends on who did the asking." She frowns. "You're not thinking about going off on your own, are you?"

"No, I don't know. Kyle wouldn't leave. He thinks Connor's going to save us all."

"He saved you, didn't he?"

"Only so I could turn around and save his dumb ass."

Blair laughs. "What is with you and him? Okay, I take it back -- I can understand how there would be hard feelings, considering. But he let me go, Marcus, and you."

"Yeah, after he almost killed us both. And he only let me go because he wanted to get to Kyle. I don't like the way he looks at him."

"Oh, Jesus, you're crazy. John Connor isn't going to steal your jailbait boyfriend."

"Don't call him that. And that's not what I meant. It's -- something else, with Connor."

Blair rolls her eyes and spins away from him, across the dance floor. She takes Star from Kyle and sets her on the ground, trying to teach her some kind of step. Kyle falls against Marcus' side, laughing.

"I'm dizzy," he says.

"Your first glass of vodka will do that. Need to sit down?"

"No. Here, look what Blair was teaching me." He puts one hand on Marcus' shoulder, the other on his waist.

"You're going to lead, huh?" Marcus says, grinning.

"Yeah. Watch my feet."

He humors Kyle for a few seconds, not recognizing the song. A lot of people are dancing, drunk; the party seems to have been going on for some time, maybe since last night, when Marcus went to bed with Kyle. If that was night, if this is day. There's no way to tell, deep inside the base.

"Marcus!"

It's Kate, shouting across the room. She looks pissed. Marcus steps away from Kyle like he's on fire. The music seems to get quieter.

"Yeah?"

"John needs to see you. Come now."

And then she just leaves, as if giving Marcus an order that's been handed down from Connor is as easy as that. Marcus only follows her because everyone is staring at him, and because he's embarrassed. He's getting too carried away with Kyle, making it too easy to give everyone a reason to separate them. He casts an apologetic look back at Kyle as he goes, shrugging.

"I'll be right back," he says.

He follows Kate through the base, which feels empty, most people at the party, enjoying the rare chance to celebrate something. She takes him to the quarters she shares with Connor and their daughter. Sarah is in a crib in the main room, asleep. Connor is sitting beside her, in his wheelchair, hunched over, his skin greenish. It seems to take him a great deal of effort to turn and look at Marcus when he enters, but his eyes are somehow just as sharp and deadly as ever.

"Take Sarah," he says to Kate. She wordlessly obeys, lifting the baby into her arms. Sarah fusses a little, roused from sleep, and Kate disappears into another room, closing the door behind her. Connor rolls himself over to the table in the center of the room, which is suspiciously clear of maps and blueprints. There are three chairs around it, and Connor gestures to the one across from him.

"Sit," he says.

"I'd rather stand."

"Fucking have it your way. You always do." Connor puts his elbows on the table and sighs deeply, drawing his hands over his face.

"You don't look well," Marcus says, feeling guilty. He goes to the chair and sits.

"No shit." Connor takes his hands from his face and straightens his shoulders. "I'm dying."

"Fuck. Shit. Your heart?"

"No. Not my heart."

Connor stares at Marcus for awhile as if he expects him to fill in the blanks, then scoffs and looks away.

"My mother always warned me not to underestimate the machines."

"Your mother?" Marcus can't imagine the woman who raised Connor. He seems as if he crawled from the earth fully formed. Kind of like Marcus did when he was reborn.

"This kind of creativity." Connor lifts a hand and curls his fingers into a half-fist, gesturing as if he's struggling for the right words. "I didn't think it was possible for the machines to think like this."

"Like what? What are you talking about?"

"I should -- should have put two and two together. They were counting on you to care enough to go after my father. To try and save him. How could they be sure that you would? I took it for granted myself."

"Your father?" Marcus looks at the door that Kate disappeared behind. He wonders if she's listening, wonders if she realizes that her husband is losing his mind. "Look, I don't --"

"They made you --" Connor breaks off there, laughing darkly. "They created you based around this one thing. Destroying me. That's all you are, a tool designed to kill me. And how the fuck would they understand that making you -- want my father -- the way you do -- that this would be what finally accomplished it? How does a machine know that?"

"Who the fuck is your father and what does he have to do with me?" Marcus wishes Kate would come back in, maybe try to translate.

"Kyle is my father." Connor's voice is suddenly very strong, his eyes angry enough to kill, something Marcus has seen before.

"Kyle -- Reese? Jesus Christ, man, you need help."

"You know we're researching time travel. I'm sure he's fucking told you everything. Years from now, I'm going to send him back in time to protect my mother when they go after her. That's when I'm conceived. When Sarah Connor and Kyle Reese spend the night together in 1984."

Marcus laughs and shakes his head. "I don't have to listen to this --"

"The longer you're with him the closer I get to the grave," Connor says, speaking through gritted teeth. "It's worse every day. I would fight for my life even if I didn't have my daughter, but Sarah -- Sarah -- it will hit her, too. She'll disappear little by little, just like this."

"Connor, you're out of your fucking mind --"

"I'm out of my mind?" It's as if Connor can will his strength back with fury, the volume of his voice making Marcus' ears ring. "You're fucking a goddamn child and that qualifies you to tell me that I'm out of my mind?"

"He's not a child, for fuck's sake, he's seventeen and he's more of a man than I am after everything he's --"

"You know, I would be disgusted by you for being attracted to a seventeen-year-old boy, but--" Connor laughs, wolfish and somehow even more deadly with his decrepit posture. "I can't blame you, can I? You were programmed to want him."

"Bullshit! They can't -- there's no --"

"They can't? They can't? Of course, like they can't make your skin regenerate overnight, can't hibernate you for fifteen years until my father is so out of his mind with loneliness that he'd be infatuated with whoever came along --"

"This is so fucking nuts, are you listening to yourself?"

"Are you?" Connor leans forward, narrowing his eyes. "Can you deny that you wanted nothing but to stay close to him from the minute you fucking met him? That you were ready to die for him, to walk into Skynet headquarters with no weapons? Can you explain that? Why a grown man would feel that way about a teenager he'd just met?"

Marcus scoffs. His heart is pounding.

"Have you met Kyle?" he says. "He's -- it's just -- the way he is --"

"He's just perfect for you, right? Because of this or that reason that they've planted in your head? Excuses, justifications -- they put them there, Marcus! It was their fall back plan. If they couldn't blow me away, they could make me disappear. All they had to do was prevent Kyle Reese from falling in love with my mother. It was easy enough, wasn't it? A good-looking guy, someone strong who would protect him? He's fucking seventeen, he's impressionable. And you. They made you into what he thinks he needs. Soft with him, rough with everyone else. God. It fucking disgusts me. A robot's approximation of a real human relationship."

Marcus tries to speak, but his heart is pounding too hard. It's not like it hasn't occurred to him before, that the machines might have put things in his head, could have if they wanted to. But Kyle. No. Connor is insane. That's all.

"I need to separate the two of you," Connor says, cool again, sitting back. "For my daughter's health and for my own. You'll understand. Or you won't. Doesn't matter."

"I -- no." Marcus stands, shaking. "If you don't want us here, we'll go --"

"You're not going anywhere." Connor scoffs, and Marcus can hear the scrape of boots outside the door, and someone chambering a round. Of course. He's stronger than everyone here, but they'll have thought of that. They'll have one of those mines, or two, three.

"Not even without him," Connor says. "I can't risk having you running around the desert, getting reclaimed by them, turned into their next version of the perfect weapon. You're being decommissioned, Marcus. Something I should have done as soon as we got back to the base."

"You can't," Marcus says. "You can't -- John -- you're sick, it's your heart, it's nothing to do with --"

"I feel sorry for you, really," Connor says. "You were their pawn. But you're not a man anymore. It was my mistake to think that you could be, after they'd done what they liked with you --"

"Goddammit! So, what? You're going to destroy me, kill me, take me apart, throw me into the scrap heap? You think Kyle will thank you? You think he'll volunteer to save your fucking mother after you killed the person he -- he --"

"Loved? Jesus. He's a boy. It's a crush. He'll get over it. We'll tell him you tried to kill me. He shouldn't have a hard time believing that. It's basically true. Kate!"

Kate walks into the room, shutting the door behind her. She's pale, shaking, trying to feign composure. Marcus tries to draw her gaze, but she avoids his eyes.

"Get the guys," Connor says, gesturing to the front door. "Then go back to the party and tell everyone what happened. That he tried to attack me. We realized he was a sleeper and put him down. Tell Kyle -- tell him we're sorry."

"John -- no -- Kate!" Marcus screams when she puts her hand on the front door's handle. The men have gone quiet outside, ready to strike. "Look at me -- look at me, Kate! You're a doctor, you know they can't just -- just -- make someone feel something --"

"It doesn't matter," she says. She lifts her face, her eyes wet, not quite meeting Marcus' gaze. "Even if whatever you feel for him is real. John will die. And then, my daughter --"

"What about me? What about Kyle? This will kill him, you don't understand --"

"Jesus, listen to you," Connor says, sneering. "Kate. Go."

She opens the door and the men pour in like ants from a hill that's been attacked, swarming Marcus. He's so disoriented that they don't need to use the mines. All it takes is the butt of a gun to his forehead and he's out.

*

Marcus wakes up slowly, as if his systems have been compromised, cranking irritably with the effort of booting up. He's sore, restrained, tied down to something in a room he doesn't recognize. His back is screaming with pain and he can hear a dripping sound from somewhere nearby, maybe the ceiling. He can't even move his head; it's held down by a heavy bar, feels like metal. He's not sure why he's alive, but whatever the reason, it can't mean anything good for him.

There's someone in a lab coat puttering around on the other side of the room, a man with graying hair. Marcus watches him for awhile, wondering how long he's been out, where he even is. Have the machines reclaimed him somehow? No, the man in the lab coat is familiar. Marcus has seen him in the halls at the base. When the man notices that Marcus is awake, he smiles, pressing his hands together as if he's pleased.

"Ah, there you are!" he says. "I was afraid those brutes had damaged you permanently."

"Where the fuck am I?" Marcus asks. It hurts to speak; his throat is so dry.

"In my auxiliary lab. My name is Dr. Yune. I'm sure Kyle told you about me. He's certainly told me plenty about you!"

"Why the fuck aren't I dead? I thought Connor --"

"Oh, Connor, well. He doesn't know everything that goes on around here, believe it or not. He'd have the most fascinating piece of machinery this war has turned out scrapped because he feels threatened. He's a bit of an egotist, in case you hadn't noticed."

"You think so? Then maybe you'll help me the fuck out. Let me go. Let me tell everyone that Connor's lost his mind --"

"Lost his mind? I wouldn't go that far." Yune begins fussing with some of the monitors that line the walls of the small, windowless room. "He's got a point, actually. I'm trying to map your brain here, and from what I've seen so far it's beautiful, beautiful work. Inspired. Makes you wonder about the machines, about their tenacity for survival and what it means --"

"Listen -- mister --"

"Doctor."

"Yeah -- sure -- okay -- you know Kyle, right? If you care about him at all, even a little bit --"

"Kyle's a fine young man, but I'm afraid I can't let you go anywhere, Mr. Wright, though I'm sure he'd appreciate it. You see, I'm disobeying direct orders by holding you here for study. I would be rather, well, fucked if anyone were to find out that you're still -- alive, I suppose, is nearly the right word."

"Please, you don't understand --"

"No, I do! I've got your whole brain mapped on my monitors here -- well, most of it, enough -- and I can see it here, your desperation to get back to him, this exquisitely effective programming! If there were a formula for love, this would be it -- cracked by machines, ha! The poetic metaphors for the texture of his skin, the weakness for his big eyes, the need to close him into corners as if your body is a shield and the rest of the world is a weapon -- it's all here, look, see!"

Yune points to the monitors, practically foaming at the mouth with excitement. The screens show bluish diagrams that look like geometric figures to Marcus, little ladders branching into infinite patterns, shifting and reshaping as Yune admires them.

"They constructed it all from the material that was already there," Yune says, still staring lovingly at the monitors. "Your experiences in prison, your admiration of your brother's irrationally passionate response to his friend's death, a song you heard as a child -- it's like a love poem written by the machines to the humans. In the midst of this war, it's -- it's a groundbreaking discovery."

"Please," Marcus says, because this is breaking him, hearing himself described this way, being told that he's nothing more than a computer program. "Please, I'm human. You -- can't you see the part where I'm human?"

"Yes! That's the most fascinating aspect of all! They have manipulated an actual human brain. The brain itself isn't their creation. The memories, the capability to learn, to feel -- it's all real. It's the brain's desires, its needs, its emotions that have been created to serve a particular purpose -- that is the genius of the machine."

"How do you know I don't just love him?" Marcus' eyes are burning, with anger as much as agony. Somewhere, Kyle is alone, vulnerable, thinking that Marcus died a monster, that he was just a reactivated machine as soon as he was alone with Connor.

"Well, you do love him." Yune frowns, walking over to Marcus. "Your feelings for him are as real as your heartbeat. Just because the machines put them there, that doesn't make them any less real. Which is precisely why I've kept you. I can learn a lot about the human mind from you, and the way the machines understand it. The research will be invaluable to our struggle with them. Can you imagine a peace between us? I never could, until I found you."

Marcus growls with frustration, struggling fruitlessly against his bonds. So this was how the Frankenstein monster felt, bolted to a table, listening to a madman's monologues. Marcus is going to burn it all down as soon as he gets free.

"Relax, Mr. Wright, please. You're so much more interesting when you're not in bare emotional flux."

"You fucking – someone's gonna come for me, someone's gonna find this place and fucking blow you away –"

"Who? Kyle?" Yune laughs uproariously, like a comic book villain. "Oh, maybe. But by then you won't care very much."

"Wha – what?"

"You know which experiment I must conduct to truly understand what the machines have made you feel, yes? And how they've done it?"

"What, Jesus, what? You're going to lobotomize me? Slice this fucked up brain into pieces?"

"Oh, God, no!" Yune leans over Marcus, smiling slowly, his teeth crooked and rabbit-like. "I'm going to make you fall out of love with the boy," he says. "After I figure out how they made you feel this way about him in the first place. It will prove that I've mastered the technology. After that, well. I can make Connor and the others think I'm a god if I want them to. Not that I'm quite so petty, just an example –"

Yune stops talking when Marcus' quiet laughter grows louder. The smile drains from Yune's face and Marcus laughs even harder, feeling victorious. Yune consults the monitors and then looks back to Marcus, frowning.

"I don't understand why you're laughing," he says.

Marcus can barely speak, so fucking thrilled that, even this powerless, this defeated, he's still got something they want that they can't take from him.

"Good fucking luck," he says. "Good fucking luck, man."

Yune's nasty smile curves back onto his lips.

"Well, of course you think it's impossible," he says. "You're still under its control, enslaved by their manipulations. I wonder if you'll actually thank me when I free you from them?"

Marcus just sniffs out another laugh, tears pouring down his cheeks, from laughter, from whatever. Even if he never makes it out here, the way he feels about Kyle isn't going to change. The machines might have put it there; he doesn't care if they did. It's still as real as the hammering heart that Yune will have to put a knife through if he wants him to stop loving Kyle.

Even then. Even if Marcus were dead, some part of it would go on.

"You're awfully smug all of a sudden," Yune says. He smiles and walks over to the monitors. "I think you underestimate the potential of emotional torture."

"Do whatever you want," Marcus says, staring at the ceiling. "Just know that I'm going to kill the living fuck out of you as soon as I get the chance."

Yune sighs. "You are going to wish you could, at every moment," he says. "I'll give you that."

*

Yune rifles through Marcus' thoughts and memories like he's flipping his stubby fingers through the pages of a book, folding down the corners of interesting pages, making notes in the margins that sting like tattoos on Marcus' mind. At first he's mostly preoccupied with Kyle, making Marcus relive their first meeting, and the almost unbearable need to protect him. He remembers, hopeful inside the maze of whatever Yune is doing to him, probes and wires attached to his temples, that he did try to resist the pull to stay with Kyle. He tried to leave him, or at least thought about it, threatened to. But then the machines intervened.

He remembers Kyle sleeping on his shoulder in the Jeep. Marcus thought about shrugging him away and then just let him rest, listening to his periodic sighs and absorbing his nervous twitches, which always seemed to bring Kyle even closer to him. Star was asleep, too, her head in Kyle's lap, Kyle's arm looped around her protectively. The world was quiet for awhile as they drove through the desert, and it was the first time Marcus thought seriously about keeping Kyle and Star around for awhile, about helping them stay safe. It was the first time he noticed that underneath the grime Kyle's skin smelled so clean, something that couldn't be tainted. Yune marks this memory for further investigation, Marcus' body jerking painfully against his bonds, then moves on.

He makes Marcus remember what it was like to lose Kyle, first to see Kyle and Star flying through the air, then to fall from the transport when he failed to free them. It was worse than taking the injection when he'd reached the end of death row. It was failure and devastation like he'd never known, and why, when he had only met Kyle and Star the previous day? It's Yune who asks this question, and Marcus fights the answer that he wants to find. Whatever set it in motion, the way he felt about Kyle can't be measured, can't be traced like a straight or even a crooked line, from point A to point B. It veered into some new, untouchable territory when he lost Kyle, his feelings for Kyle skyrocketing into a force of celestial proportions, bigger than anything in this world. And he got Kyle back. The machines wanted Marcus to get Kyle killed, but Marcus overrode them. He saved him.

"Only so that you could destroy Connor by changing the course of history," Yune says, either aloud or in Marcus' mind, he can't tell. "They were probably more interested in this outcome, actually, so that they could test their technology."

I'm not technology, Marcus thinks. But he hasn't eaten in days and he's not hungry, not even thirsty.

Not only does he have no appetite and no hope of sleep, he has no privacy anymore: Yune dissects his most intimate memories of Kyle, pulling his emotions out like live wives, like throbbing veins, causing physical reactions, hot sweats, white-burning fury simmering under all of it. Yune maps out Marcus' reactions to Kyle by making him feel like he's back with him in their room at the base, like Kyle is warm and soft in his arms, panting, clinging to him, whispering Marcus' name in his ear as Marcus moves inside him. Marcus' hands are curled into fists at his side, his cock hard and pressing painfully against the restraint over his lap. He hates these phony reunions with Kyle, but he needs them, too, his eyes wet when they're gone.

"They've mapped the way humans need things like food and rest and replaced those things with only him," Yune says, touching his chin, staring at the monitors as Marcus pants on the table, recovering, his cock still leaking, angry-hard. "This is why you panicked when you lost him, why you felt as if you could tear steel with your hands if it meant getting him back. For you he is essential to survival."

"Then how the fuck did I go without him for three weeks when Connor sent me on the mission?" Marcus grinds out, determined to poke a hole in Yune's bullshit. "I didn't feel like I was dying just because he wasn't around."

"You had the promise of returning to him," Yune says. "It's more complicated than just seeing the boy. It's knowing that he's safe somewhere and eventually accessible to you that sustains you."

"Then why the fuck aren't I dying now?"

"It doesn't actually kill you not to be with him. It just makes you feel as if you'll die."

He's wrong about that; Marcus feels like he's already dead. He can't hide any part of his feelings for Kyle from Yune: they play before Marcus' eyes as they filter across Yune's data screens, every little laugh Kyle pressed to Marcus' neck, every secret look across the table during one of their card games in the rec room, everything he said: I saw a bird once. Marcus feels as if it's being stripped from him, as if Yune will take all of it away once he's amassed every shred.

Blair is there, too, Marcus' experiences with her rolled out like a rug that Yune walks all over. There's the day they met, the night when Marcus saved her from those assholes who attacked her, Blair's head against his shoulder, her arms around him when they fucked, her wild laugh when Marcus tried to braid her hair.

"That's a chink in your fucking armor, isn't it?" Marcus says to Yune as he's puzzling over these memories. "I fucked Blair before I did anything with Kyle. I was confused. Human."

"That can be explained simply enough," Yune says. "The machines made Kyle sacred to you -- above anything, you wanted to protect him. You tempered your desire for him by being with this woman -- you were trying to protect him from yourself. You didn't trust yourself to touch the boy until he was begging you to do it, telling you it was what he needed. You'd been programmed to want to make him happy, so of course you gave in when he asked outright."

"Why would they make me want to fuck him?" Marcus says, wanting to scream the question out, but he can't show Yune how efficiently all of this is destroying him, though he probably, almost definitely knows. "Why not just make me noble, some kind of protector Kyle would fall -- fall for --"

"Because then it would truly only be a crush for him! No, you had to elicit physical responses from the boy in order to seal his feelings for you, the kind of thing he would hold onto always, the kind of thing that would disrupt his future love for Sarah Connor even if you were long gone by then."

"Sarah Connor? John's daughter?" It's a crushing thought, the girl growing up beautiful, Kyle forgetting Marcus, pining for Sarah, by then an impressive soldier who would win her easily.

"No, no, Sarah Connor the first, John's mother. John wasn't mad when he told you that Kyle is meant to father him in the past. According to my research it is what happened -- at least in the original time line. Now John is withering away and who knows what will happen. It's exciting -- I wonder if we'll all lose our memories of him when he dies? The whole world will shift under our feet -- unless, of course, John succeeds in making Kyle forget you. He's got ten years to convince Kyle to fall in love with his mother instead."

Marcus flexes against the bonds, groaning with frustration that breaks against him like waves, beating him back, keeping him on the shore. It's agony, living inside this powerful body and not being able to move. Not being able to get to Kyle, to stop Connor and Yune and everyone who thinks they know him. Marcus is the only one who does. Marcus who has been inside him. But, God, Yune has been there, violated both of them by studying the memory. Marcus shudders and closes his eyes.

"Fucking kill me," he begs, for the first time. "You've got what you need."

"Oh, but I haven't," Yune says. "Not by far."

Yune goes back further, shows Marcus the experiments that were done on him after his staged execution, makes him remember the pain that those scientists were humane enough to allow him to push so very far back into his subconscious that he hasn't gone anywhere near the memories since waking up again. It wasn't unlike what Yune is doing to him now, only it went on for years of sleepless agony as they replaced his skeleton with metal, bone by bone.

Backward again: prison, watching what happened to Andy, the helplessness, the guards who laughed, the burn in his body as Yune rolls back further, a juggernaut smashing down all of Marcus' fragile defenses. Marcus' face is soaked with tears by the time Yune scrolls back to the crash, Bobby lifeless in his arms, cracked glass everywhere, smell of burning rubber, Marcus can feel the blood, still hot, all over his hands --

Yune pulls the plug, muttering about Marcus' elevated heart rate.

"Why they left this human heart I might never understand!" he says, furious. "You're close to cardiac arrest -- this must have impeded their progress as well." He glares at Marcus as if he expects Marcus to explain. Marcus gasps for breath, his tears running into his mouth. He wills his heart to explode, to just let him die, but Yune seems to anticipate this, jamming a syringe into Marcus' neck with a grunt.

Yune infuses Marcus with happy memories to calm his heart rate: the first time he got drunk with Bobby, both of them laughing hard in the basement, Bobby telling Marcus he was his best friend. That first blow job, Penny Harper, the way her strawberry lip gloss tasted when it was tinged with the bitterness of Marcus' come, kissing her and whispering promises into her mouth with delirious gratitude, making her laugh. Farther still: his arms around his father's shoulders in the neighborhood pool, the sun on their backs, Bobby showing off, doing flips into the deep end. His mother: the memories are so faint, almost blurry. Peanut butter and banana sandwiches with the crusts cut off. Climbing into her bed and sniffling into her nightgown after a bad dream. Her hand stroking the back of his head, smoothing his hair down as she tells him that it's going to be okay.

There's only meaningless snatches of sense memory after that: the smell of grass clippings, the way the plastic peeled away from Kraft singles, Bobby helping him up onto the couch, the jangle of a television show theme song. Birds shrieking outside, waking him up in the morning. Bars made of wood instead of steel. Someone wiping his nose for him with a tissue. His mother's voice again, singing softly. He can't make out the words.

*

When Yune has accessed and analyzed all of Marcus' memories, diagrammed his emotions and strung him up like a puppet, he begins to manipulate his reactions to stimuli. First it's food and water: he'll make Marcus feel like he's starving to death, his stomach groaning with need, then he'll switch it off and dangle food over Marcus' lips, smiling when Marcus no longer knows what to do with it. Marcus' mind feels like something that doesn't belong to him, and he tries to run and hide from Yune's manipulations, the way he did in prison -- think of something else, just think of something else -- but he can't. Yune follows him into every secret storehouse of happiness and flushes him out, especially when Marcus tries desperately to think of Kyle, to remember what it felt like to hold him, kiss him, to just lie on the mattress in their room and press his nose against the tip of Kyle's, watching the way Kyle's eyes lit up with the simplest gesture of affection from Marcus. Yune knows these hiding places best of all. He scours them clean so that when Marcus tries to call up his memories he can't, not unless Yune wants him to.

Having Yune make him think about Kyle is worse than not being able to think of him at all. Yune finds the threads of memory that Marcus is still holding on to, the things he loved best, Kyle's voice when he first wakes up, the way he can talk to Star without words, the way he gets a little smug when Blair is around, that soft place between his neck and shoulder, the little curl growing over his forehead, the way his jaw sets when he's saying something righteous and dramatic about the war -- Yune takes it all away like he's uncurling Marcus' fingers from a ledge he's hanging on to. Sometimes it feels more like he's unwinding a vine that's grown around Marcus' metal bones, something real and alive that took root inside his mechanical frame. It burns when Yune takes these thing from him, sometimes one at a time and sometimes in batches that make Marcus scream with pain. When it's done, when he's still smoldering, he lies there trying to figure out why his nerves are jerking as if he's been flooded with electricity, why he feels like he's got to relearn how to breathe.

Sometimes he slips from Yune's hold for just a moment, when Yune is distracted, eating a sandwich over his keyboards. His thoughts come to him with jagged difficulty, his mind like a roller coaster that trundles unevenly over tracks that are rusty and full of gaps. He'll remember the fort where Kyle lived with Star at Griffith Observatory, fixing the radio, hearing Connor's voice, and the next thing he knows he's back in jail, trying to tell Andy about this boy he met in the future, unable to remember his name. He'll back away from Andy when he realizes that his eye color is wrong, or that his eyes aren't there at all, accusing him of being a robot. Then he's in the desert somewhere, alone, everything gone.

"Tell me how you feel about Kyle Reese," Yune says at the end of each session, holding a clipboard, making notes.

"No," Marcus says every time. He holds it in for as long as he can, the secret, small, confused scrap of nostalgic love for Kyle, who must be someone he invented, a fever dream like all the others. Still, he keeps it safe until Yune pries it out of him, making him groan with frustration and whimper like a kid when Yune pokes at it, lighting Marcus' senses on fire as he measures it with his probes.

"Stubborn," he'll say afterward, scolding Marcus as tears run down his face. Marcus doesn't cry, just can't stop his eyes from watering, as if something inside him has been split open to its liquid core, the warmth against his cheeks giving him the strength to hold on to some of it, to hoard it as Yune puts his tools away for the day.

He doesn't sleep, can't remember how. When Yune is gone he stares into the darkness of the room and searches his ransacked mind for anything it can hold on to. An Italian wedding party. He wasn't there, but he remembers sangria in plastic pitchers and a silk purse that somebody wanted to steal. Was it Bobby? He was always stealing things. Not maliciously, though. Marcus can't remember how he knew Bobby, but he remembers Bobby stealing a slap bracelet for him, and Fun Dip, and once he brought home a kitten he'd found by the dumpster behind that gas station. Gas station -- Marcus remembers running from one, the air shimmering with the choking smell of gasoline, everything blowing up, a monster whose footsteps shook the Earth. He clings to this memory desperately, but it cracks and then shatters to nothing before he can get a real foothold.

Yune's attitude changes. He begins to seem bored, disappointed, frustrated. He snaps his fingers over Marcus' half-closed eyes and Marcus stares up at him. He's not sure what he's supposed to do. Some days he waits for the lethal injection. Others he thinks he must have gotten into a bad fight in the cafeteria line and waits to be hauled off to solitary confinement. Once he wakes up and asks Yune what the score is, then looks around for Bobby before remembering that Bobby had dropped out of school by the time Marcus made varsity. Yune groans and paces. Some days he leaves Marcus after just a few hours of questioning. No matter how briefly he stays, he always works in that last question, the one that Marcus knows how to answer even when he knows nothing else.

"Tell me how you feel about Kyle Reese."

"No."

"Why not? Yune finally says, sputtering. "Why not? Do you even know who Kyle Reese is?"

"No."

"Then perhaps you feel indifferent about this person who you do not know?"

"No."

"Do you know the meaning of the word indifferent?"

"Yes."

"Tell me."

"You don't care. Indifferent."

"And you are not indifferent toward Kyle Reese?"

"No."

"So what are the nature of your feelings about Kyle Reese?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know. But you know that you have them?"

"No."

"No? So you're telling me that you have no feelings toward him in particular?"

"No."

"No, you don't have feelings?"

"No."

"Answer 'yes' if this statement is accurate: You have no feelings at all toward Kyle Reese."

"No."

Yune throws his clipboard down and growls with anger, pulling both hands through his hair. Marcus stares at him. He's already forgotten what they were talking about. He just knows that he promised himself that he would answer these questions in a certain way, and that it means something, that it's important.

"There is something," Yune says, jabbing his finger at one of his monitors. "I can't wipe your entire memory unless I want to compromise the basic motor functions, speech patterns, ability to reason -- how did they do it? How did a machine comprehend the complexities of the human mind? It should have been simple -- it could only have been simple, if they were able to achieve it! And you're not lying to me, you don't know who he is, you couldn't --"

There's a knock on the door. Yune freezes.

"Open up." It's a man's voice. "It's Benny."

Yune groans, the tension draining from his face as he goes to answer the door. He pulls it open and a man is standing there. Marcus has seen him before. He doesn't know where or when, but when he looks at the man there's a little pulse of empty recognition that he's learned to trust.

"I told you never to come here!" Yune hisses. He's got his face poked out into the hall beyond the door as if he doesn't want the man to see inside the room. Marcus feels like he should do something, make a noise, but he doesn't know why, so he only lies there.

"You told me a lot of things," Benny says in a growl. There's a buzzing noise and Yune shouts as if he's in pain, then crumbles to the floor. Marcus' heart rate speeds up as Benny walks into the room. He's glaring at Marcus as if he wants to hurt him, too.

"Jesus," he says, looking Marcus over. "Blair was right."

"Blair," Marcus says. He thinks of the smell of the bathroom after his mother showered, and a model plane he had when he was in fifth grade.

"Yeah, Blair." Benny scoffs as he begins working on Marcus' restraints. "You can bet your ass I wouldn't be bothering with you if it wasn't for her. But -- goddamn -- I didn't think it was true, I thought they'd killed you like Connor said. What's he been doing to you?" Benny makes a face like he doesn't really want to know.

"You mean him?" Marcus asks. He looks at Dr. Yune. "He asks me about Kyle Reese."

"Yeah? If I never hear that name again it'll be too soon. He's a troublemaker. Tried to run away, Connor had to lock him up. Now he's playing nice because he and Blair have a 'plan.' Shit, my life would be a lot easier if I just gave up on her and started fucking one of the guys. Guess that didn't work out so well for you, though, did it? Welcome back to hell, I guess. Can you sit up?"

Marcus has to think about it for a moment, but as soon as he tries, it's easy. He flexes his arms and kicks his legs over the side of the table. He feels okay; Yune erased some of his pain receptors so that he'd stop complaining about his back. He said it was all in his mind, anyway, that he'd only feel pain connected with emotion. Marcus stares at Yune, who is still slumped on the ground.

"Is he dead?" Marcus asks.

"Hell no," Benny says. "Blair wants me to keep him alive so she can find out what exactly he did to you down here, maybe how to fix it. You look alright to me, though. Feel alright?"

"Yeah, I feel fine."

"Good. C'mon. They're waiting."

Marcus follows, stepping over Dr. Yune. It feels good to be free, and strange, a little frightening. Benny locks Yune in the lab and grabs Marcus' arm, leading him through a dark passageway that seems to be made of stone.

"I don't remember how I got here," Marcus says.

"Yeah, no shit, they knocked you out and then Connor put you in the compactor, or at least that was the story. Fuck knows how Yune got a hold of you. Connor will be very interested in finding out, that's for sure."

"Connor." The passageway they're moving through smells like a cave, and the walls are dripping with moisture. Marcus' mind is throbbing like a tired muscle, drowsy but determined.

"Not sure how he's going to react to seeing you," Benny says. "Did you really attack him? Kyle's sure you didn't, Blair says it could go either way."

"Attack who?"

"Connor."

Marcus thinks, tender green vines growing through him already, wrapping around his metal parts. Metal, right, he's made of metal. Which is why Connor hates him. Marcus remembers standing in water, being Baptized, his stepmother insisted -- but no, this was a different time. The vines cling tighter, thickening as he follows Benny through the winding tunnels. Connor was an old man in a wheelchair. Or not old -- dying. It was Marcus' fault.

"He thinks I tried to kill him," Marcus says. "Because of Kyle Reese."

"Because of Kyle Reese? What do you mean?"

"I don't know. Connor, he screamed at me. He didn't know Yune had me. I remember that. Yune is afraid of him."

"Yeah, well, he oughta be. This is treason, basically. Here, go up those stairs. I don't want to be the first one through the door if Connor's gotten wind of this little jail break."

Marcus does as Benny asked. He's not afraid. He knows the smell of this place. So many of his memories are irrelevant here -- his mother, his father, Bobby, all of them have been gone for a long time. This is more like a video game dungeon than the life he knew. He opens the door Benny indicated and finds himself in what looks like an old storage room. There's a boy holding a gun and a woman who is in the middle of tying her hair back in a long ponytail when Marcus comes through the door. They both freeze.

"Marcus!" the boy cries, his voice breaking. The woman claps both hands over her mouth and makes a shocked little noise.

"Keep it down!" Benny says, coming up the stairs behind Marcus.

The boy runs forward and throws his arms around Marcus, knocking the wind out of him. Marcus is surprised, but then he feels like he shouldn't be, his arms winding around the boy's waist as the boy trembles against him. He's making squeaked-out little noises like he's trying to hold something very heavy back, his face hidden against Marcus' neck. Marcus holds him close, shushing him and petting his hair as he looks to the woman, hoping she'll tell him what's going on. She just stares, her eyes wet with tears.

"I know you," Marcus says to the woman. "I think."

"Oh, God!" She sobs once, covering her face again. Benny walks over to her and puts a hand on her shoulder. "He doesn't -- you don't remember us?"

"Yes, I do." Marcus squeezes the boy, who stopped has breathing. He lets his breath out in a rush against Marcus' neck, choking on it, his hands fisted so tightly in Marcus' t-shirt that one of the sleeves starts to rip. Marcus feels as if the boy is about to explode, and he's ready to hold him together. He knows this boy, he does. He loves him, even. That was what Yune kept wanting Marcus to say, but he never would. He kept this one thing, wouldn't let Yune have it, and it was smart of him, just as important as he thought it would be, because the rest is growing out of it already: he remembers the woman across the room, ash across her eyes like war paint, her laugh like Christmas lights.

"Marcus," the boy whispers. His tears are hot on Marcus' neck, making him think of the only comfort he had when he was strapped to Yune's table. Anger winds its way through him, a fat vine crawling up his ribs, but he pushes it away for now.

"Kyle," he says, softly, just loud enough for the boy to hear, because he trusts this boy with that name, because it's his name, this is Kyle, this is the boy Yune plucked out of Marcus' mind with the finest tweezers he had. They were not fine enough.

"I thought you were dead." Kyle is trembling so hard. Marcus remembers kissing him, the way Kyle shook and looked up at him with tears in his eyes. Needing him. Kyle needs him. Nothing else matters. He kisses Kyle's temple, strokes his back. Yune told him it was the machines who made him feel like this, but he took those parts away. Something else is growing over the components Yune shut down, all of it sprouting from the tiny seed Marcus snatched back from Yune every time he thought he'd extracted it, bark hardening over the vines as they sprout branches with bright leaves, every one of them a memory of Kyle. It's nothing a machine could make.

"Hey," the woman says, walking over to them. She's Blair, and Marcus has never seen her cry, though she once got close, when they were sitting by that stream. Marcus is going to get away from here and take all of them with him: Kyle, Blair, even Benny. He's going to take anyone who wants to leave this place.

Kyle puts his arm around Blair, pulling her in to let her hug Marcus, too. She clutches at him and laughs, a little sadly, but he still likes the sound of it.

"Connor told us he'd destroyed you," she says. She steps back and wipes at her eyes. "Kyle found stuff in Yune's lab, I wanted to believe it, but I was afraid to hope --"

"We should go," Benny says. "Before Yune wakes up. He might have some kind of alarm rigged up in there. At least some of Connor's men have got to be working with him."

"Right." Blair steadies herself, taking a deep breath. She pats Marcus' cheek. "Look at you," she says. "Not a scratch on you."

"What did he do to you?" Kyle asks, the words tumbling out of him at full volume, equal parts angry and heartbroken. "Did he hurt you? Has your skin just grown back? Has he been hurting you the whole time?"

"I'm fine," Marcus says. He kisses the crown of Kyle's head. "You saved me. Now let's get out of here."

Kyle stares up at Marcus, disbelieving, sniffling. He looks older than Marcus expected, but maybe his memory is still a little faulty, kind of fuzzy. This Kyle seems like a man. Marcus was so used to thinking of him as a boy.

"How long was I down there?" Marcus asks.

"Two months," Kyle says. "So much has happened. I know you didn't really try to kill Connor. What -- why did he --"

"Because of you," Marcus says. "He thinks you're his father. He sends you into the past, you meet his mother, get her pregnant. He's crazy. Is he still alive?"

"Connor -- yeah. Jesus." Kyle pushes his hair off of his forehead. He's the most spectacular thing Marcus has ever seen in his life, and it's kind of hard to not be touching him, so he slides a hand onto Kyle's shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Blair asks.

"It's just -- stuff Yune said to me, stuff that didn't make sense, weird jokes." Kyle shakes his head, pinching his eyes shut. "I think Yune thought I was Connor's father, too."

"None of this makes any sense!" Benny says, groaning. "You people are fucking killing me, can we please go now?"

They make their way through the halls of the base quietly, keeping close to the walls. Like Kyle, the base seems different, but Marcus can't trust his memories, and maybe it was always this way. Too still. Waiting for something.

"Kyle and I have been disarming the mines outside," Blair whispers as they track through the mostly unused areas that house boiler rooms and scrap heaps overflowing with destroyed machines. "We've cut a path out, just stay close once we get out there, follow us. If we're taking fire things are going to get tricky, but I don't think anyone saw this coming. Virginia got out already, with a Jeep, Star's with her. They're waiting for us on the south end, but we'll have to get you over those mines first."

"Virginia?" Marcus says. He struggles for the memory. "The old lady?"

"That's right." Blair smirks. "Turns out she was pretty high up in the military when things went to shit. Interesting lady. You'll get to know her. Benny, did you unlock the supply room?"

"'Course."

"Good. We'll stock up there before we move out." Blair lifts a bag that she's carrying. Kyle has two of them, and he passes one to Marcus.

"I'm getting food, Blair's getting ammo," he whispers. "You go for medical supplies. Benny will keep watch at the door."

"So you guys are leaving?" Marcus says, glancing at Blair. "Just like that?"

"Well, we're taking you with us," Kyle says, sounding confused, and very young again for a moment. "Don't worry."

Blair smiles. "It's time," she says. "You were right."

They gather the supplies in the near-dark of the supply room, and Marcus can hear Kyle's breath as he puts handfuls of jerky into his bag, nervous and determined. Marcus wants to pick Kyle up, tuck him against his chest and carry him out of here, but that's not what Kyle needs from him now. Kyle is the one who saved Marcus this time; he's changed, and it's good. He's grown up. As he stuffs bandages and antibiotics into his bag, Marcus allows himself to wonder if Kyle will eventually stop needing anything from him at all, if he'll turn into the man Connor expects him to be, someone who will father children and take his place in history. For the first time since he learned what he is, Marcus thinks about the fact that this body won't age. Kyle's will.

"Hey." Kyle claps a hand on Marcus' shoulder, making him jump.

"Don't sneak up on me," Marcus says. He touches Kyle's face, and strokes his cheek just once. Marcus will have to watch him grow old. He'll have to care for Kyle on his death bed, when all of their friends have already gone. And that's the best case scenario. By then, Kyle might have found someone else, someone real, who he'd prefer to have at his side as his eyes close forever. A wife. A son.

"Yune thought they made me just for you," Marcus says, whispering as Kyle draws closer. Blair and Benny are on the other side of the room, bickering about the logistics of the escape.

"Just for me," Kyle says, grinning. "Okay."

"No, I mean -- he thought they programmed me to want you. To want to make you happy. To need it like food and water."

Kyle's grin fades, and he shakes his head. He looks over his shoulder at Blair and Benny, who seem to be making up now, hands on each other's chests. Kyle leans up to put his lips against Marcus' ear, and Marcus' eyes fall shut as he breathes in the smell of him, his hand sliding around Kyle's skinny waist.

"Somebody made me need you like food and water, too," Kyle whispers. "When you were gone -- I thought I would die."

Marcus kisses Kyle's forehead. Kyle doesn't understand, or maybe he doesn't care. If someone told Marcus that Kyle was programmed to want him, to need him like this, close and warm, a thrill shooting down Marcus' spine at the softest touch of Kyle's lips, Marcus wouldn't mind. As long as he can have this. If he's a machine that was built for Kyle he'll happily spend his life doing whatever Kyle needs him to, when Kyle is taller and sturdier, when he softens again with old age. When his bones are so brittle that he can't walk, Marcus will carry him. When Kyle dies, Marcus will turn himself off like a switch, retiring as Kyle's beloved possession, no longer needed. He doesn't care why he wants all of this and nothing more. Kyle is reason enough.

When they're finished in the supply room they come to the back exit that Benny has left unlocked and sneak through, keeping close to the outer wall of the base so that the sentries in the four towers that look down over the base won't see them. The sun hurts Marcus' eyes, until he remembers what Dr. Yune told him. He only has to be in pain when he chooses to, emotional responses telling him that things should hurt. It hurts to see the sun because it's been so goddamn long. Months, Kyle said. Marcus' hands close into fists.

"What about Yune?" he whispers to Benny. "I want him dead."

"Connor will kill him, don't worry," Benny says. "We can't risk making a commotion before we get out of here."

Marcus grunts in annoyance, and Kyle reaches over to squeeze his arm, as if he wants to kill Yune just as badly as Marcus does. Benny had better be right about the way Connor will handle Yune's betrayal. Even if he does kill Yune, Yune's research will still exist unless Connor smashes his monitors to bits as well. Marcus doesn't like the idea that his memories are being stored on someone's hard drive, but he supposes he'd better get used to it. Yune is certainly not the only one on this planet with Marcus' brain at least partially downloaded. Yune is just the only one who's seen the things Marcus did with Kyle in their room, those moments that are sacred to Marcus above all others. Though maybe he didn't really see them at all, since he couldn't figure out how to take them away.

They head for the Jeep, trying to stay in the shadows as night begins to fall, the brilliance of the sinking sun hopefully blinding the gunners in their towers. Marcus stays close to Kyle and keeps his head down.

They don't even make it twenty feet from the wall before they hear a gun being cocked up on the tower. Marcus is ready to run, but everyone freezes when they hear Connor's voice.

"Really? You thought it would be this easy? I'm hurt."

Marcus turns to see Connor standing at the top of the wall that overlooks the mine field, a gun trained on them, men with raised weapons flanking him. Connor looks strong again, color in his cheeks and shoulders squared for a fight. Marcus steps in front of Kyle and Connor's face changes.

"What -- what the fuck." Connor frowns. "You're supposed to be scrap metal."

"Your men have their own agendas," Marcus shouts back. "You should have asked to see my body."

"Benny, you son of a bitch," Connor says, his arm shaking as he moves the gun toward Benny.

"It wasn't him!" Blair says. "It was Dr. Yune! He had a secret workshop down in the basement -- he's locked down there now, you can question him, listen, John, we're leaving peacefully --"

"Peacefully? Really? If you take Reese away from here I die. You saw what I was like before I separated them. You don't understand, Williams --"

"You can't make me stay!" Kyle shouts. "I knew you were lying, I knew Marcus didn't really attack you, he'd never --"

"Kyle, he's a machine!" Connor screams. "I'm your family! Sarah, my daughter, she's your family! I can't explain how -- or, I can, if you'll let me -- but, please, my daughter will die if you go --"

"She won't!" Kyle shouts. "You think I'm going to be your father because you send me back in time? What proof do you have? You were only sick before because of your heart, now you're better --"

"I'm only better because you thought he was dead! And my proof -- I have my mother's word. I believe her. She told me Kyle Reese was my father. Dr. Yune tested your DNA after you first arrived here --"

"Yune was a lunatic!" Kyle screams. "And maybe I was your father before, in some other time line, maybe even at some point in this one, but you know it's not going to happen now, and you're still there, you're still standing --"

"Only because there's still hope! Please, Kyle, stay, help me, I'll explain everything, you'll understand --"

"Is everyone here a fucking idiot?" Benny shouts, and that quiets both of them. Benny is panting, holding Blair's arm tightly. "I -- I mean, Connor, you think this kid's going to be your father because that's what your mother told you? That Kyle Reese was your father?"

"I trust her," Connor says, glaring at Benny. "She wouldn't have lied to me."

"Well, Jesus Christ! I'm not saying she would have, Connor. She got, you know, in a family way, by a guy named Kyle Reese. Fuck, is -- is nobody else here seeing the solution?" Benny is laughing in nervous outbursts, looking around at Marcus and the others.

"The solution is to keep Kyle here," Connor says, lifting his gun again. "Come on, Kyle. I've got your little friend. Star. She's in the base, waiting for you. Just come with me and I'll explain everything."

"Fuck you!" Kyle screams. "Let her go!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Benny says, laughing again. "People. Everybody. Connor. You can pick your fucking father from any of your guys! He doesn't have to be Kyle Reese! Am I -- am I out of my mind or does he just have to tell your mother that his name is Kyle Reese?"

Nobody says anything for awhile after that. Connor's shoulders are moving with his heavy breaths, and Marcus is still positioned in front of Kyle. Blair laughs a little and jostles Benny's shoulder.

"You're right," she says softly. "You're right."

"I --" Connor shakes his head. "No, I --"

"Give us one reason why that wouldn't work!" Blair shouts. "You feel strong now, don't you? And Kate told you all along that it was your heart, I'm sure, I saw her monitoring what you ate, taking your blood pressure -- you were just recovering from the injury you got at Skynet! Sarah was healthy the whole time, and why wouldn't she have suffered along with you if it was Kyle's -- potential romantic disinterest in your mother --"

"She's right, John," Kate says, appearing suddenly from the door that Marcus and the others left through. She's got Star with her, and Virginia. Kyle kneels down and Star runs into his arms, hugging his neck.

"Kate," John says tightly. "Get back inside."

"I don't take orders from you anymore," she says, coming to stand beside Marcus. She touches his shoulder, her lips trembling. "I thought he'd killed you for nothing," she says, her voice soft. "I'm so sorry. He made me think our daughter would die -- and he did think that, he really believed it. Please, forgive us."

"It's fine," Marcus says, stepping back. "Just let us go."

"You're not going anywhere!" John shouts. "If Kyle feels like he needs to leave -- I -- I can't stop him. But you're dangerous. We've got no idea what's going on inside your head, what the machines put there --"

"And it's none of your fucking business!" Marcus screams, so forcefully that everyone takes a step away from him. His heart is pounding and the muscles in his neck are tight with rage. "Haven't I proven myself? What more do I need to do? I could have destroyed your entire base by now if that's what they'd programmed me to do. Why would they make me wait? They're not as creative as you give them credit for. It's you, you're the fucking mastermind behind all of this twisted scheming and time travel bullshit. Let go of whatever your mother told you about her future. It's all changed. We're changing it every day."

Connor stares, his weapon lowered, his hand twitching at his side. The men behind him have brought down their guns as well. They're looking at Connor differently now.

"Let them go now, John," Kate says. "Or Sarah and I will go with them."

Connor gives his wife a wounded look, then shifts his gaze to Kyle. He shakes his head, tapping his gun against his leg.

"You're fools," he says, the cracks in his voice betraying his uncertainty. "You're following one of them. A machine is leading you away from here, and you're following."

"He's not a machine," Kyle says. His voice is rough from screaming, and he's staring Connor down like he's not afraid. Marcus puts his hand on Kyle's shoulder and turns to go.

And that's how they leave. Following Marcus. Without looking back.

*

Marcus drives while the others sleep, and when the sun breaks the horizon after a long night of heading north, he feels like he did when he was driving in the desert, Kyle asleep on his shoulder, Star asleep in Kyle's lap. It's much colder here, and they're not alone anymore -- Blair and Benny are huddled together under a blanket in the back, Virginia asleep under her own blanket beside them. Kyle is the first one to wake up, making that little noise that Marcus has missed more than sunlight, shuffling a bit under his blanket and pushing his cold nose against Marcus' throat.

"Where are we?" he asks. He's warm, blinking sleepily. Marcus will never leave his side again. He forgot what this was like, this calm, the peaceful harmony that hums through his hybrid systems when he's close to Kyle.

"Don't know," Marcus says. "But we've got to be closing in on the Canadian border here pretty soon." He nudges Kyle with his elbow. "I guess we'll know when we see birds."

Kyle grins and moans a little, shifting closer to Marcus, his arm still around Star, who's fast asleep.

"Have you had to use that yet?" Kyle asks, nodding to the gun on the dash.

"Nope," Marcus says. "I think almost all the machines on the west coast were concentrated at Skynet headquarters when the shit went down, considering that you and Connor were there at the time. They all got called there since you two were their priority targets."

"How do you know?" Kyle asks, sitting up a little.

Marcus points to his temple. "It's all in here," he says. "I never really knew how to access it, but they plugged me into their super computer and they didn't exactly wipe my mind after they'd shown me everything. Something about what Yune was doing to me must have unlocked it. It's weird -- I feel like my thought process is different now, like it's all laid out and I can access everything, like going through really well-organized filing cabinets. Before it was more like -- everything was stacked up, one thing on top of another, and if I tried to sort through it the stacks would collapse and I'd get too frustrated to keep trying to find what I was looking for."

Kyle is staring at Marcus with a little frown of concentration, as if he's trying to figure this out. Marcus laughs and kisses his forehead.

"So you've got an advantage," Kyle says. "You know some things about how they operate."

"Yeah, I think so," Marcus says. He's got no use for sleep unless he can curl around Kyle for a battery recharge, so he's been up all night trying to put some things together in his head. Kyle grins and leans onto Marcus' shoulder again.

"Go back to sleep," Marcus says when Kyle yawns. "I'll wake you up if I see any birds."

"Nah," Kyle says. "I'll stay up and keep you company."

"Alright. You can tell me what I missed for the last two months, I guess."

"No." Kyle clutches at Marcus' arm and closes his eyes against Marcus' shoulder. "I don't want to think about that yet. I just got you back. It still feels like I might be dreaming."

"You're not dreaming. And I won't leave you again. It was stupid, going to Connor like that. I should have suspected something."

"But how could you? How were we supposed to know that he thought I was his father, that he was dying because I wouldn't love his mother?" Kyle scoffs. "It's crazy."

"He's not a bad guy," Marcus says. He's felt weirdly charitable since escaping from Yune's lab. "He thought his daughter was in danger. He saw me as a robot who was going after his family. I guess he'd had enough of that by now."

"You're not a robot," Kyle says, muttering. His fingers close more tightly around Marcus' bicep.

"You know what?" Marcus sniffs out a laugh. "I don't care if I am. Maybe I'm even glad. I can keep you all safe with what I know, and with how I'm constructed. I can help you get food and I won't need to eat it. I can keep watch while you're sleeping. I like it. It suits me, I think."

"Being a robot?" Kyle is grinning up at him like it's a joke. He'll never see Marcus that way.

"Yeah. Being a robot has made me a better man."

"What did Yune do to you?" Kyle asks, touching Marcus' neck as if he's looking for tiny cuts.

"I think he made me stronger," Marcus says. "By accident."

"Well, still I hope Connor kills him."

"Me, too," Marcus says, his charitable attitude not extending to Yune.

He drives on as the sun rises higher, Kyle drifting in and out of sleep and the others rousing periodically to ask where they are, as if there are any road signs that will tell them. They stop in what might have been Washington state for a bathroom break, Marcus watching the road while the others wander into the woods to take care of business. He turns to check on Kyle and sees him pouring some antibacterial ointment onto Star's hands, smiling at her sweetly as she rubs her palms together. He would have been a good father. Maybe he still will be, for Star.

"Hey," Blair says, walking over with her hands in the back pockets of her pants. "How're you holding up?"

"Pretty well, considering."

"Considering, yeah. You scared me for a minute back there, when you didn't seem like you knew who I was."

"I knew. I was just disoriented."

"Did Yune fuck with your brain? Kyle told me that was Yune's area of semi-expertise."

"He tried to. I don't think he really knew what he was doing."

"Jesus."

"Don't worry. I'm alright."

Blair shakes her head and looks at the others. None of them have gone far, Kyle and Star already climbing back into the Jeep.

"I can't believe Benny was willing to help us," Blair says as she watches him head back toward the Jeep, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "He was always one of Connor's guys. And the way he talked to Connor before we left! He had a good point, really."

"Something going on between you and him?" Marcus asks.

"Why?" Blair grins brilliantly. "You jealous?"

Marcus drives until they run out of fuel. They're in the woods somewhere, probably in Canada, not far from the ocean. Marcus can smell the salt in the air, mixed with the damp scent of the dripping trees. They load up their things, even Star carrying a bag of provisions, Marcus trying not to laugh when Benny attempts to compete with the amount of weight that Marcus can carry.

"Thanks," Marcus says to Benny as they walk, breathless through the woods, looking for something; they'll know it when they see it. Benny gives him a sideways glance.

"I did it for Blair," he says.

Marcus looks over his shoulder at Blair, who is talking with Virginia about some study she read a million years ago that said that desperate groups like this one were more likely to survive if they had a few women among them. Kyle is walking at Blair's shoulder, not listening, holding Star's hand. He smiles at Marcus when he sees him looking back.

"Shit," Marcus says, turning around. "I never thought I'd want this."

"What?" Benny asks.

"People depending on me."

"Maybe you just hadn't found the right people."

They come to a residential street that's been abandoned for a long time. It's mostly untouched, but when they choose the largest house, at the end of a secluded cul-de-sac, the remains of the previous owners are inside, the bones of two people who curled up by their fireplace together as they died. Marcus and Benny bury them in the yard, near the lake that the house overlooks, while the others clean and scavenge, settling in.

"This place is so dead, it might be off the machines' radar," Marcus says. "I'm not finding anything on it in my database."

"Your database?" Benny says with a scoff.

Marcus grins. "Yeah," he says. "That's what I'm calling it. The information that the machines installed in my mind. I don't want to feel bad about it anymore. It's a tool, we can use it to help us."

"Whatever you say, R2-D2," Benny says. He leans on his shovel to catch his breath. "Whatever you say."

Above them, the sun is already beginning to wane. Maybe it's winter; the days have seemed short. By the time they've buried the former owners the sun is settling dramatically over the lake, cold rolling in off the water. They stand around the graves and Virginia says a few words of thanks to the owners for the use of their home, as if they consented. Marcus does get the feeling, somehow, that they wouldn't have minded, that their lingering spirits are good. Kyle shivers when a strong wind begins to blow through the trees around the lake, and Marcus pulls him into his arms, wrapping the flaps of his coat around Kyle's shoulders.

As darkness falls outside, they make a fire in the fireplace before doing a sweep of the house's supplies. There are candles, matches, tools for cutting wood in the attached shed, supplies that Marcus can use to make a generator, the blueprints for the machine rolling out easily from his filing cabinet mind. There's also a well-stocked liquor cabinet, which Blair and Benny examine enthusiastically. They pour tastings of scotch and rum and black currant liquor for Kyle, laughing at his wincing reactions. Kyle likes the pineapple-flavored vodka the best, and drinks it from a crystal glass, lying against Marcus' side on the sofa. The cushions have been beaten clean on the back deck by Blair and Star, and it feels pretty good, pretty comfortable, especially with Kyle bouncing with laughter against him.

"Benny and I will take the first watch tonight," Blair says.

"What, so you can get wasted in private?" Marcus says, smirking.

"We will most definitely not get wasted until the morning," Blair says, and Benny laughs, looking at her with such adoration that Marcus has to cover his face, embarrassed by it, only because he knows he must look at Kyle that way.

There are two bedrooms on the house's main level and another one down in the large finished basement. Virginia and Star sleep by the fire and Marcus and Kyle take the bedroom that seems to have once been the master. They flip the dust off the sheets and look around the room as their eyes adjust to the moonlight.

"I'm drunk," Kyle says, stumbling against the bed with a laugh. "I think."

"You want to get some sleep?" Marcus asks. He gestures to the fireplace near the sliding glass doors that lead out to the back porch. "I could make a fire for you."

"No, no, no," Kyle says, shaking his head emphatically, sitting on the bed now. "Come here. Marcus, oh. Come here."

And Marcus is programmed, one way or another, to give Kyle everything he wants, so he goes to the bed, falls onto him, and lets Kyle push a long, satisfied sigh into his mouth.

"Oh, God," Kyle whispers, trembling under Marcus' weight. "Yeah."

It's not like the first time, peaceful and transcendent. It's a frantic mess of what they've both needed for two months, thinking they'd never see the other again, and Kyle seems to have learned to curse in the intervening time, because he grinds his words out with real conviction, growling them into Marcus' ear – fuck me, fuck me hard, shit, yeah, right there, fuck – and Marcus comes into him like a goddamn avalanche when he hears those words streaming from Kyle's swollen, candy-pink lips. Kyle's come is all over Marcus' chest already, and Marcus smears it over himself with his hand, bringing one finger down for Kyle's tongue, to let him taste it. Kyle licks his finger clean, laughing deliriously, pale skin shining in the moonlight through the windows over the bed.

"Fall asleep inside me," Kyle says. "Please."

Marcus is so ready to sleep, even if he doesn't need it anymore, and the idea of sleeping while still inside Kyle makes him whimper. Kyle laughs a little, cooing sympathetically, petting Marcus' cheeks. Marcus just spills down onto him, trying to breathe evenly as Kyle shifts onto his side and yanks the blankets up over them.

"Let's wake up in a few hours and do it again," Kyle whispers, sounding kind of worried, like he thinks he'll lose Marcus again in the aftermath. Marcus nods against Kyle's forehead, unwilling to open his eyes, ready to sleep like this, still inside Kyle's wet, open body, unable to remember what the air smells like when it doesn't smell like Kyle's skin.

"There was something I was going to say," Marcus says when his hand is spread across Kyle's face, his body half-surrendered to the only sleep he knows, the kind that comes when Kyle is all around him like this.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I – something about – how I'll never leave you – even when you're an old man."

Kyle laughs as if this is ridiculous, like he'll never really be an old man. So: even at the fiery seat of the apocalypse, where everyone grows up too fast, teenagers feel this way.

"I'll never leave you, either," Kyle says, not getting it at all, what Marcus is promising.

"Oh – did you ever see the Wizard of Oz?" Marcus asks.

"The what?"

"Right – you haven't seen any movies. Okay. When I was a kid, and I mean really little, five years old at the most, my mother showed me this movie, The Wizard of Oz, and Dorothy, she's so worried about the Tin Man, or, well, her and the Scarecrow both are, but it was the Tin Man who always got to me, the way she oiled his joints and was so excited when he could move again. Fuck, it was a love story. I think, when I was a kid, I wanted them to be together, even before I knew what that meant."

"I've got no idea what you're talking about," Kyle says, laughing and kissing Marcus' face. Marcus has mostly slipped out of him now, but they're both scooting closer, trying to hang on to the last slippery inches of their connection.

"Are you warm enough?" Marcus asks, tucking the blankets around Kyle's shoulders. "Are you sure you don't want me to build a fire?"

"I don't need one," Kyle says. "You're like a furnace." He presses his hand over Marcus' heartbeat. "So warm."

Marcus knows that Kyle is trying to tell him that he feels human, that the warmth of his skin is proof of something, but Marcus would rather believe that he's willed himself to be this warm, more than any human body could manage, that he can take better care of Kyle for what he is, a machine designed to want him and to be wanted by him. Kyle will never want to believe this, and it doesn't really matter what's true, where the seams of Marcus' humanity intersect with the gifts the machines gave him. All that matters is that when their bodies finally slide slickly apart under the blankets, they're still tied together, Kyle with his bright eyes and bird bones, Marcus with metal ribs that close around internal combustion, his synthetic freckles: they were designed to fit together, and here they are at the end of the world, Marcus' legs locked in behind Kyle's knees, Kyle's hands pulling Marcus' arms tighter around his chest, their bodies like a peace between the two forces in this war, one impossible thing blooming in a world where they can only dare to hope that they are not the last of their kind.

Marcus dreams for the first time in his robot body, and it doesn't feel like a dream, just like a vision of the future. In the dream, thirty years have passed, and Kyle is still just a bit smaller than Marcus, but so much older now, friendly wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, his soft curls going thin. They've built a whole village in the forest by the lake, and Connor's operation is still going strong, too, conquering the east coast. The world is changing again, becoming quieter. Marcus and Kyle live in a house made of wood and stone that Marcus built for Kyle with his bare hands in the space of fifteen hours. Marcus is always getting better and better at building things, at being efficient and error-less, and sometimes when he looks at Kyle he knows that it is frightening him, this progress.

After the work day and before the community dinner, they lie in their bed together while the sun goes down outside. The bed is another thing Marcus built for Kyle, who doesn't need Marcus the same way he did when he was a teenager, when Marcus could make Kyle so happy with just his body, his hands, his mouth and his whispered words. Kyle is only forty-seven years old and still wants what Marcus can do to him in bed sometimes, still says I need you now, oh after some long days spent building houses for the people who stream into this community from others, but more often Kyle is tired and just wants to be held, falling into sleep so much more quickly than he used to, back when he wanted Marcus to tell him the plots of old movies while their noses pressed together on the pillow. Marcus sometimes panics with the need to make Kyle happy, to give him things, so he makes bed frames and houses and new weapons, anything that he thinks Kyle might need.

"You are so fucking beautiful," Kyle whispers, stroking Marcus' unchanged face while they lie in bed together, Kyle's body heavy and tired, his skin damp with sweat. Kyle is still beautiful to Marcus, better every day, but he just laughs now when Marcus says so.

"What will you do when I'm gone?" Kyle asks, with the worried little frown that calls up Marcus' memories of Kyle at seventeen, when Kyle was always struggling to be taken seriously.

"I'll come with you," Marcus says. "To wherever you're going."

"Marcus."

"You can't tell me I'm not allowed to try. You're my soul, and I've got to go where my soul goes, right?"

Kyle presses soft kisses to Marcus' cheeks, as if Marcus is the young, vulnerable thing who needs to be comforted. It's true that Marcus at least looks younger than Kyle these days, and sometimes he feels it, too, as if Kyle has been privy to certain life lessons that Marcus will never understand.

"It would be a waste," Kyle says. "You lying in a grave with me. You should stay here, where you can help other people."

"But they only – I was designed to want to be with you. I don't know how to do anything else."

"Will you quit it with that shit? You were designed as a weapon for Skynet, and you learned how to be something else. Fuck, I'm the one who taught you how, so don't take that away from me. But I want to teach you, before it's too late, that you don't have to chain yourself to me like this."

"What if I want to?"

Kyle shakes his head, his blue eyes filling with tears that don't spill. They just gather at the corners, glittering, making Marcus think of the way Kyle's eyes used to get when he laughed hard enough to cry.

"No," Kyle says. "God. I want to leave this place knowing that you'll still be here. That you'll remember me and – I don't know. That you'll help some other stupid kid hold on to his gun."

"I don't want to help anyone but you."

Kyle groans and rolls onto his back. Marcus thinks he's happy, secretly, and that's why he keeps insisting, because sometimes he knows what Kyle needs even when Kyle doesn't.

"You're gonna want me there when you're dead," Marcus says, putting his chin on Kyle's shoulder. "Wherever you're going, you're gonna want me there."

"Can't argue that," Kyle says, sounding defeated. Marcus wishes Kyle wouldn't think about this, not yet, when he's got maybe thirty more years here, in this life, where Marcus knows exactly what he is. He's not sure where he'll fit in once Kyle reaches whatever afterlife he's destined for, probably something involving downy white wings and golden harps.

Then he wakes up, and Kyle is still so young, asleep in his arms as dawn breaks through the windows. Marcus wonders if this is the afterlife, the real paradise that Kyle was always headed for, but as he slides out of bed and dresses to chop wood for the fire, he decides that it doesn't matter, like the blur between his mechanical and human self. It doesn't matter if this is heaven or still the waning hell of the post-apocalypse. They're here together. If Marcus' mind has one base line of reasoning, that's it: is Kyle here? Yes. He goes out into the cold morning knowing this, needing nothing more.


End file.
